


Run and I'll Give Chase

by Madalynn_Bohemia



Series: Vampire AU [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Ancient Louis, Bartender Niall, Biting, Blood, Club owner Zayn, Daddy Kink, Daddy Louis, Dirty Talk, Happy halloween, M/M, Mind Reading, Multiple Orgasms, Rimming, Slight Vampire Violence, Spanking, Vampire AU, Vampire Sex, Vampire bonds, Young Vampire Harry, nightclubs, overexcessive use of endearments, slight dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2018-02-23 09:42:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2543030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madalynn_Bohemia/pseuds/Madalynn_Bohemia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“You go out every night and maybe you’re able to drink without hurting anyone, but you’re still thirsty, aren’t you? Still have an itch you can’t scratch. A need you can’t put a name to. You desire a companion.”</i>
</p><p>  <i>“You mean a keeper?” Harry corrects with venom in his voice. “Someone to put a leash on me.” </i></p><p>  <i>“Wouldn’t need a leash, love.” Louis whispers sensually, and he is suddenly behind Harry, too fast for his eyes to keep track of. “You’re practically pliant just by being in my presence. Of course, if you’re into that sort of thing, I could always get you a lovely collar with a matching leash once you decide to take me up on my offer.”</i></p><p>  <i><br/><i>Or, Harry is a fledgling vampire without a maker. Louis is graciously offering to fill that role.</i></i><br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Run and I'll Give Chase

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween everyone. This is just a self-indulgent vampire fic in honor of the holiday. Might be a little rushed, but there it is. Enjoy.

Thump thump thump.

 

It’s a constant rhythm that fights and claws its way into the center of Harry’s mind. Holds him captive with the beat of so many hearts that pump blood to _every_ inch of all those willing bodies. Always willing. Always tempting. _Delicious._

 

Thump thump thump.

 

This time it’s different, though. Not the messy kind of beating that tickles his appetite, but more melodic in nature. The kind that gets him up, gets him on his feet as he tangles his limbs with others. Harry dances like he was born doing it, sways to nameless songs and lets lyrics slip off his tongue while he sings along. Sings it better.

 

He’s in a sea of people, but he’s not just another face in the crowd. Most of the human members of the club _Arcanum_ adore him. Hang off of his arms, and paw at the miles of pale, tattooed flesh he reveals. Their nails sink into his clothes in an effort to bare more. Always greedy. Always wanting just that little extra bit.

 

Harry allows them to touch, because they are beautiful to him just as he is to them. Humans are like kittens. Cute, vulnerable, and in need of someone to take care of them. Harry cannot be that person, but for now, he allows their avidity and dances with those who want his attention. He breathes in the smell of sweat and perfume, cologne and deodorant and the blood pumping underneath it all while his hips move fluidly in an effortless figure-eight motion that’s almost hypnotic in its simplicity.

 

The club caters to others like him, and Harry lets his excitement grow over how many of his kind are here tonight.

 

He can _feel_ them.

 

Harry loves it. The older ones always give off this potent, influential air that makes him go loopy. Makes him want to obey. It’s a bit of a thing he has, and it causes all these sensations that have Harry feeling high. His reaction-time turns slow and sluggish as he continues to work his hips while raising his hands towards the roof, almost like he’s reaching for something. His lids are heavy, green eyes glowing a vivid emerald color when he bares his pin-sharp fangs to the flashing lights above.

 

He’s a baby in the eyes of others. A fresh vampire that has yet to reach his year mark, but he doesn’t care what they think of him, because he can still feel their eyes. Can still draw their attention like something to be desired. It makes him feel like the powerful one. Like he has all the control.

 

Harry loses track of time - as he always seems to do since his change - and songs bleed into other songs and the people he’s dancing with move on to be replaced with other people. He knows he’ll grow bored soon, and makes a preemptive strike by seeking a change in scenery. His dancing partners almost refuse to let him go, but Harry gives them a smile, flashing his fangs non-threateningly, and that does the trick.

 

It’s an easy thing to make his way to the bar. Most people give him a wide berth without even realizing what they’re doing. It’s a natural response, like a gut-instinct humans have. A voice that whispers at the back of their minds, warning that he isn’t one of them. That he has the potential to be dangerous and deadly.

 

He slides onto a stool with a little less grace than one of his kind typically exhibits. Before he was turned, he was terribly clumsy, stumbling and falling on his feet. Now that he’s a vampire, his awkwardness is a little less blatant, but still present much to Harry’s disappointment.

 

A full tumbler of blood is placed in front of him, and Harry beams at the bartender with everything he has.

 

“Thanks, Niall.” He drawls in gratitude, voice sluggish and quiet, knowing he’ll be heard over the loud music all the same.

 

“Not sure you need it, mate.” Niall grins, motioning in the general area of Harry’s face. “You look a little flushed.”

 

“S’the others.” Harry admits, inclining his head in the direction of where the older ones are probably sneaking around like creepers, avoiding conversation like the plague. “Makes me feel useless.” He adds. Not the smartest thing to divulge, but Harry’s always been trusting to a fault.

 

“They do have that effect, don’t they.” Niall practically tsks, his blue eyes almost iridescent as he scans the crowd. Niall’s a young one, like Harry, still working up to his first decade, but he likes to brag about the years he already has on him. Claims Harry is the youngest vampire he’s ever met, excluding himself.

 

“Where’s your shadow?” Harry sighs, referring to Niall’s maker and the owner of this particular establishment.

 

“Entertaining old friends.” Niall reveals, gesturing with a damp rag towards the lounge area with the comfortable couches. Harry nearly turns completely in his seat in an effort to see, easily finding Zayn among the others, but it’s his current companion that has Harry’s eyes focusing and his teeth nearly biting into his own lip.

 

Zayn’s friend is fucking _fit_.

 

“Do elves exist?” Harry whispers, and Niall laughs uproariously behind him. Harry can just see Zayn’s lips curl into a smile over the sound, but for once he doesn’t turn to seek Niall out, choosing to keep his gaze on his friend instead.

 

“No, you twat.” Niall answers him, even though Harry’s still got his back to the blonde.

 

“Pixies?”

 

“Shut it.”

 

Harry still can’t look away from the other vampire. He appears to be kind of small in stature, but even from here Harry can sense that he’s very old. His power feels like a caress from this distance, lulling him into a kind of silky, warm, wrapped-up place. Harry can’t tell what color his eyes are, but his hair is soft and shaggy looking, styled in a kind of swoop that looks like caramel swirls.

 

He has a sudden sharp yearning for caramel.

 

The air rushes out of him when the other vampire turns his head just enough to shift his gaze, eyes meeting Harry’s from across the room. They flash a brilliant blue, and Harry’s own respond in kind by glowing a deep forest-green.

 

“You’re being obvious.” Niall mutters, so Harry finally turns his gaze away from the stranger and back around to the blonde.

 

“I’m naturally curious.” He argues, tastefully ignoring the snort that follows that statement.

 

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

 

“Why do you say that? Is he dangerous?” Harry asks, unsure if he should be afraid or not. He isn’t.

 

“He’s older than Zayn.” Is Niall’s answer, and Harry’s actually impressed. He’s never met another like them that’s older than Zayn.

 

“Do you like him then?” The Irish vampire presses when Harry remains uncharacteristically quiet.

 

“Who doesn’t like beautiful things?” He says fancifully, taking a slow drink of blood.

 

“Maybe you should ask him.” Niall suggests seriously, and it’s the tone that cuts into Harry’s thoughts enough to focus.

 

“Ask him to what?”

 

“Be your surrogate daddy.”

 

Harry throws the complimentary bar peanuts at him.

 

“Oi!” Niall glowers, holding his hands up in a defensive position. “It was just a suggestion.”

 

“Keep those to yourself.” Harry grumbles, nursing his blood petulantly and fails at not feeling bad when Niall’s face softens.

 

“You know I worry about you, kid.” He confesses, and Harry can’t help but shake his head over the _kid_ remark. Niall may be an older vampire, but Harry was turned when he was twenty-one, he isn’t a child.

 

“There’s nothing to worry about. I’m fine.” He says as convincingly as he can, but he should know by now that shit won’t work on Niall. He’s so achingly lonely even the club bouncers look at him with sympathy every night he shows up. It’s pathetic.

 

“You could try talking to him.” Niall pushes, and Harry feels an irrational flash of anger because he knows exactly what this is about and what Niall is trying to do.

 

“Thought you said he was dangerous. The older ones aren’t exactly fond of me.” He growls, ignoring the guilty look Niall can’t hide. When Harry had first met Zayn, the raven-haired vampire had shown barely-hidden disdain for him. The fact that Harry wasn’t tied to his maker made him a sort of vagabond in the eyes of their kind. The only reason Zayn decided to come around at all was due to the fact that Niall took a shining to him, and Zayn would never deny Niall anything.

 

“Maybe Zayn could talk you up to him.” Niall offers like it’s the greatest idea.

 

Harry’s eyes flash in warning, but he manages to keep his voice level when he gives his answer.

 

“I don’t need any favors, and I certainly don’t need some surrogate maker trying to control my every move.”

 

“It isn’t like that, mate.” Naill denies, blue eyes automatically seeking out Zayn over Harry’s shoulder. “It’s-”

 

“Maybe with you and Zayn it’s different, but it’s not something that’s for me.” Harry claims adamantly, finishing his drink and disregarding the crimson drops that escape down the corners of his lips to trace over the curve of his chin. He leaves it there as a reminder of what he is. That he’s dangerous, and it’s unwise to get too close.

 

“Gonna go dance.” Harry mutters, not wanting to just stalk off. Niall doesn’t deserve that. He really does care, but in this instance...it’s more grating than welcome.

 

Harry can feel eyes on his back the entire way to the dance floor, but he allows himself to be swallowed up in the sea of gyrating bodies, grateful to be able to disappear in a sense. He closes his eyes, ignoring the dancers that surrounded him, vying for his attention, and it’s only when he finds an easy rhythm that he realizes he never even asked Niall what the name of Zayn’s friend is. Not that he cares.

 

-*-*-

 

Harry knows who’s in front of him, even with his eyes closed. He can feel that all-too-familiar sensation when one of the old ones is nearby. The crackle of power sparking across his skin, the way it makes him feel loopy and full of cotton. It’s usually how he feels around Zayn, but this is distinctly different. Sharper, definitely stronger and almost... _sweeter?_

 

Like caramel.

 

Harry doesn’t know what to do, so he does the only thing he can and opens his eyes. The vampire is closer than he expected, moving to the music and matching Harry effortlessly, as if he isn’t even aware of it. Harry can’t help but notice that all of his other dance partners have been scared off, and he feels small under the other’s appraisal.

 

He’s not really sure on what the protocol is when around an older member of his kind. He makes an effort to be super respectful to Zayn, but Niall always laughs at his attempts.

 

Thankfully, his internal dilemma is cut short.

 

“Do you always make such a mess when you eat?”

 

Harry can’t help but gape.

 

“I beg your pardon?”

 

Instead of answering, the other vampire’s hand moves fast (too fast for human eyes) and trails down Harry’s chin. He holds his fingers up for Harry to see, showing the blood he’s collected on the tips. Harry watches with widened eyes as the older vampire brings those same fingers to his mouth, tongue wrapping around the thin digits and licking them clean.

 

Harry feels his body awaken as lust courses through his veins from the display, accompanied by a cold douse of embarrassment at being called out on his table manners.

 

“You’re blushing.” The older one says, blue eyes flashing in what can only be described as delight before hiding it away. Harry tries not to get self-conscious when he feels his blush deepen once attention is drawn to it. He’s out of his element here. Others like him (excluding Niall) do not actively seek out his company. What is he supposed to say?

 

“Start with a name.” The other suggests, and Harry would have instantly closed off his mind to invasion if he wasn’t so punch-drunk off of the power the stranger is emanating. Keeping his mind guarded is a useful trick both Niall and Zayn have been teaching him after complaining that Harry’s thoughts are too loud, but for the life of him he can’t remember how to do it in this moment.

 

“ _You_ approached _me_.” Harry feels the need to point out. “Shouldn’t _y_ ou introduce yourself first.” He’s practically swaying on his feet, and it isn’t because of the music. He’s almost completely out of it, but even in this state he’s shocked that he hasn’t been struck down for his blatant disrespect. His mind clears a bit when instead of tearing off his limbs right here on the dance floor, the other vampire chuckles.

 

“You’re cheeky.” He smirks in approval. “I like that.”

 

Harry’s eyes flutter shut as he tilts his head back and practically moans when strong hands grip his hips in order to physically still his dangerous back-and-forth rocking, choosing to pull him closer instead. It has been so long since he’s been touched by someone who can handle him. So fucking long.

 

“My name is Louis, now tell me yours.” It’s a gentle command, but a command all the same.

 

“Louis." Harry can’t help but repeat, trying the name out on his lips and liking the way it rolls off of his tongue. “Don’t you know mine already?” He asks with a frown, words slurred and heavy. He doesn’t understand why he’s acting so confrontational, and is lucky Louis’ being accommodating. Still, it is unlikely that the other vampire hasn’t learned his name yet. Either pulling it from Harry’s own mind or learning it from Zayn. He’d approached Harry for a reason, after all.

 

“Wanna hear _you_ say it.” Louis confesses, pulling him close enough so he can whisper that particular secret straight into Harry’s ear, having to lean up onto his tip-toes to do it. It’s positively endearing.

 

“Harry.” He sighs in answer, nuzzling his face into Louis’ soft hair as Louis inhales deeply over the pulse point in his neck. Are vampires usually this grabby and affectionate when they meet? He isn’t sure. “My name is Harry.”

 

“Harry.” Louis echos back, directly over his jumping heart. “I like it.”

 

Harry feels irrationally pleased over having the older vampire’s approval of his name. For Christ’s sakes.

 

He knows that Louis is doing it on purpose, deliberately exuding his power and putting him under a kind of thrall. However, he refuses to have this conversation when he’s already seconds away from throwing his principles to the wind and doing whatever this man wants. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth, so instead of using his words, he communicates in another way.

 

_Reign in your power. Can’t think._

 

Harry uses his mind to project these words, aware that the older ones can curb their influence. Zayn does it, knowing how much it affects Niall and his younger clientele.

 

“But I think I like you like this.” Louis grins, tiny, sharp incisors peeking just passed his lips while he runs a small hand through Harry’s long hair. “You’re like a kitten.”

 

Harry’s eyes drift shut again, and he actually has to fight the urge to purr. If there’s one thing he loves, it’s having his hair played with. Gemma used to card her long, thin fingers through his curls whenever he was patient enough to beg, but that was before...

 

The sensation is almost too much after so long, and Harry forces himself to remain as level-headed as he can.

 

_Zayn sent you, didn’t he._

 

It isn’t a question, and Louis doesn’t look the least bit guilty when he pulls back. Pulls away. Harry can feel Louis’ influence withdrawing, his power dampening and allowing his mind to lose its fuzzy edges.

 

“This is about my lack of bond, right? Come to offer your services?”

 

“Clever pet.” He breathes, lips almost touching Harry’s with each word. “Let’s just say I owe Zayn a favor.”

 

“You don’t owe _me_ anything.” Harry argues sensibly. “I don’t need a maker, I don’t want to be bound to anyone either, and certainly not because of some favor that has nothing to do with me.”

 

Harry’s chest heaves unnecessarily while he watches Louis appraise him with curiosity.

 

“You really are feisty.” He observes, as if it’s an admirable quality. “You’re also lying.”

 

Harry resists the urge to stomp and pout, deciding instead to change the subject.

 

“Why do you owe Zayn a favor?” He asks, reveling in the brief flash of surprise that lights up Louis’ blue eyes before he covers it behind an easy smile.

 

“I made him, so essentially anything that goes wrong in his life he deems it my fault.”

 

Harry is genuinely shocked. He’s never imagined someone like Zayn having a maker, even though it’s the only possibility.

 

“And you indulge him?” Harry wonders inquisitively.

 

“I care about him.” Louis corrects, eyes looking towards the bar. Harry follows his gaze, instantly spotting Niall handing out drinks, Zayn coming up behind him and wrapping his arms around his waist. Even from here Harry can see the way Niall leans into it.

 

“They care about you too.” Louis says softly, and Harry sighs, already knowing that to be true. “Do you know why everyone’s so wary of you, Harry?” He asks, and the question itself feels like a slap to the face. Harry only takes a second to gather himself.

 

“Enlighten me.” He mutters, failing at remaining entirely calm. Louis; for the most part, seems to find his forward behavior and openness refreshing.

 

“Maker’s are like parents to those they choose to pass on the gift to. Children need discipline. To be taught and shown the correct way of how our kind should live. We essentially anchor our young. Keep them grounded.”

 

Harry feels the familiar annoyance at practically the same speech he’d already heard from Zayn (who no doubt heard it from Louis) but underneath that, interestingly enough, it sends a kind of thrill through him, to hear Louis talk to him like he’s a child. When Zayn had done it, Harry had scoffed, but he is quickly learning that things are different when it comes to Louis.

 

“You’re the equivalent of a child without a guardian. You can see why others would find that troubling. No one to teach you our ways. To reward you when you’re good. Punish you when you’re bad.”

 

Louis’ eyes flash a brilliant electric-blue when he says the word _punish_ , and Harry’s own eyes light up like a verdant fire in response, heart rate quickening much to Louis’ satisfaction if his smug grin is anything to go by.

 

“I h-have control.” Harry stutters, feeling the need to defend himself. “I can take care of myself.” He concludes with conviction, but Louis continues to look determined, as if Harry will never be able to convince him.

 

“But you aren’t fulfilled, are you, kitten?”

 

Harry has trouble swallowing.

 

“You go out every night and maybe you’re able to drink without hurting anyone, but you’re still thirsty, aren’t you? Still have an itch you can’t scratch. A need you can’t put a name to. You desire a companion.”

 

“You mean a keeper?” Harry corrects with venom in his voice. “Someone to put a leash on me.”

 

“Wouldn’t need a leash, love.” Louis whispers sensually, and he is suddenly behind Harry, too fast for his eyes to keep track of as he curls his smaller body around Harry’s own, delicate hands slipping into the back pockets of his ridiculously tight jeans. “You’re practically pliant just by being in my presence. Of course, if you’re into that sort of thing, I could always get you a lovely collar with a matching leash once you decide to take me up on my offer.”

 

Shivers wrack Harry’s entire body, his teeth sinking into his plump bottom lip and quivering when fangs pierce deep and his own blood spills into his mouth, the flow cutting off when the wounds heal quickly. Louis just sounds so fucking sure of himself. Arrogant and cocky, like he already _knows_ Harry is going to give in. He has to know, though. Has to ask.

 

“What’s in it for you?” Harry challenges shakily, tremors running down his spine when Louis laughs softly in his ear.

 

“Claiming you as my own wouldn’t exactly be a hardship, Harry.” He teases, nipping playfully at his lobe. “Besides, I’ve been on my own for almost a decade. Companionship would be welcome.” Louis admits, coming back around to stand before him.

 

“So why don’t you just make another vampire?” Harry demands, unable to trust that there isn’t some hidden agenda here. A sinister ulterior motive.

 

Louis gives a put-upon sigh. “Because the first one I made still likes to hold it over my head.” He grumbles, disregarding the tone of his comment when he turnes fond eyes towards Zayn.

 

Harry studies the floor, ignoring the different color lights that sparkle around them as he tries to clear his head. He closes his eyes and feels; more than hears, Louis come closer.

 

“You don’t know me, but I do know Zayn and Niall, and I know that they would be very upset if something were to happen to you. The others aren’t like us, kitten. They’ll be more than intolerant of you once they realize you’re not even a year old and without a bond. Be a good boy, yeah? Don’t let that happen.” Louis reaches around him, his soft hand patting Harry’s bum over the left back pocket.

 

“Come find me when you gain some self-preservation, pet.”

 

Harry wants to tell him to quit with the nicknames and the gentle touches. To quit leading him into thinking that someone could care about him, but before he can even blink, Louis is gone, taking his barely contained power with him. It leaves Harry’s knees weak and shaking while the fog completely evaporates from his mind. He stands just like that on the dance floor, unmoving, eyes still intently focused on the space Louis occupied not three minutes before.

 

He reaches back towards his pockets, because Louis had been too deliberate towards the end, and sure enough his searching fingers come across expensive feeling paper, thin, but strong like a business card. Unsurprisingly, that’s what it is, just a white background with an address printed in red elegant script and the name Louis Tomlinson above in flowing cursive. Harry sighs, already memorizing the address before pocketing the card once more and heading towards the bar.

 

He can hear the distinct sound of Zayn and Niall bickering, easier for Harry to pick out over the blaring music after attuning himself to them for so long.

 

“You were supposed to ease him into the idea, not set him off.” Zayn’s grumbling, looking down at Niall beneath his lashes from his place perched on top of the bar. He can do that. He owns the place, after all. Niall is gesturing wildly with his hands.

 

“You charged me with being subtle? _Me_? Do you _not_ know me?” Even Harry can tell Niall is upset, and if he can tell from this distance, Zayn can definitely tell. He pulls Niall in close, spreading his legs so the blonde can slot between his thighs while whispering something in his ear that has the younger vampire visibly relaxing.

 

Not for the first time does Harry feel a longing when looking at the two. He isn’t jealous of them, only of what they have. He wants that with someone one day, but due to the circumstances that led to his change, he knows he’ll never get that connection. Has never questioned it.

 

Until now.

 

Harry approaches the only two people he can actually call his friends, trying to sort out all the chaotic things fighting around in his head. Niall opens his mouth as if to say something, but Zayn quiets him with a finger pressed to his lips and a kiss to his neck to soothe over being cut-off.

 

Harry is grateful for the time, but his thoughts are no more sorted now than when this whole thing began.

 

“That was planned, wasn’t it?” Harry asks, because it’s only obvious, but he needs to know.

 

“We never wanted to upset you. We just want you safe, lad.” Zayn quietly confesses. “Louis can give that to you. Protection, stability. He’ll be good to you.” Zayn adds with conviction, obviously speaking from personal experience.

 

“What have you got to lose?” Niall shrugs, trying to be helpful, but Harry’s mind is already supplying an answer.

 

_My freedom._

 

The blonde frowns, picking up the unspoken reply as if it had been said aloud. “It isn’t a prison, mate.” He says with a kind of intensity that is so unlike Niall it makes Harry blink.

 

Harry can’t help but sigh, feeling defeat take over him. “I don’t want to need anyone.” He breathes, taking in their sympathetic gazes, as if they pity Harry for not truly understanding.

 

“It isn’t always about need, H. There’s so much more than that.”

 

Harry is sure it’s one of those things he just won’t get until he experiences it for himself, he just...doesn’t want a repeat of the last time. The _only_ time.

 

Niall and Zayn have never pressed the matter of who made Harry, but he always knew they were curious. They’ve undoubtedly pulled bits and pieces from his head by accident or on purpose, but they’ve never urged Harry to divulge the entire story. This time it’s different.

 

“Maybe...you _should_ talk about it.” Zayn suggests softly, looking so open and kind, an eager expression taking over his often sharp features. Harry can’t even find it in himself to be tetchy about it. He’s just so tired all of a sudden. “Doesn’t have to be with us.” Zayn’s quick to add, and Harry can practically hear the implied _Louis_ he keeps to himself.

 

“Yeah, just talk.” Niall latches on, probably sensing how close Harry is to caving. “Nothing has to be decided tonight.”

 

But Harry already knows with a strange kind of calm that if he went to the address written in crimson on Louis’ expensive card he _will_ say yes. He knows he’ll give himself over to the older vampire, simply because he’s tired of being alone. Tired of pretending every day isn’t a struggle. Tired of craving the unknown and thirsting for something other than blood every night.

 

“I think I’m gonna go home.” He states, surprising even himself with his willpower, and he turns away before he can see their disappointed faces. He’s running again. Doesn’t want to talk about the past with strange, ancient vampires tonight, far too beautiful for their own good and offering him things they can’t possibly understand the enormity of. At least not to him. Harry just wants to bolt. Zayn wont let him slip away that easily, though.

 

“Need a ride?”

 

Harry shakes his head, but gives the two of them an easy smile. “Fresh air will probably do me some good.” He taps the bar in a kind of goodbye before shuffling off, turning back when Niall calls out to him.

 

“Back tomorrow, yeah?” He yells, and Harry can see the nervous way he’s biting his lip, probably worried he’s gone too far. Harry can’t help but want to put him at ease.

 

“F’course.” He assures, watching as Zayn gives him a nod and buries his face in Niall’s bleached locks. He’ll definitely hold Harry to that, because anyone who upsets Niall has to answer to Zayn.

 

Harry doesn’t look back as he glides through the endless sea of bodies, reaching the exit quickly and taking in deep gulps of air when he breaks out into the night. Even after he’s walked two blocks, his heart still hasn’t calmed.

 

-*-*-

 

Harry’s apartment is small, and somewhat empty, but at least it’s in a decent part of town. Still, he’s genuinely surprised that he’s been here this long. Tries to avoid staying in one place for any length of time, constantly moving out of necessity. Louis wasn’t lying when he told Harry about others of their kind mistrusting him due to his young age and the lack of a maker. He’s had to deal with other vampires on his trail before, trying to claim him or hurt him.

 

It’s lucky he’s so good at losing people. Lucky he’s had Zayn and Niall to vouch for him in their own social circle that the club provides.

 

Harry latches the door behind him. The lock wont protect him from other vampires, but it’s still a comfort that is very much a habit from the days he was still human. He looks around, wondering if he should make the place more homey or just give up the ghost and pack up his measly possessions in favor of new scenery.

 

Meeting Niall and Zayn has been the best thing that’s happened to him since he was turned, but now that they’re encouraging him to bond with another vampire, to take on a kind of surrogate maker...

 

He isn’t so sure this is the place for him anymore.

 

Harry removes his coat and throws it over the green armchair with the broken leg before stalking into the tiny kitchen. The only thing he has in his fridge is milk, and he pulls that out along with a saucer from the high cupboards.

 

He pours the milk in the bowl until the bottom fills up, capping it again and returning it to the fridge before heading to the living room window with the fire escape. He opens it and sets the saucer down on the metal landing, knowing that a white cat he’s taken to calling Dusty likes to hang around and has an affinity for cream.

 

Once Harry seals the window back up, he checks the time, letting go of a soft exhale when he realizes the sun will be up soon. He drags his feet towards his bedroom, closing the door firmly behind him and starts his routine of getting ready for bed, checking and double checking that all the thick blinds are in place before securing the black-out drapes over them, effectively blocking the sun when it eventually rises.

 

Once satisfied, he collapses on his bed, removing his boots and socks first so he can work on wriggling out of the clingy jeans he insists on wearing. He had forgone pants tonight, so as soon as his trousers are off and thrown to a distant corner of his room, his shirt quickly joins the growing pile.

 

Harry lets go of a relieved breath when he feels cool air brush against his naked skin. He can still smell the remnants of the club on him, but he’s far too tired to shower now so it’ll have to wait till he wakes up.

 

It’s hard not to let the silence creep in, or the knowledge that if only he didn’t have so much fear of the past and a general sense of pride...

 

If only he had chosen to take Louis up on his offer, then maybe he wouldn’t be so alone now.

 

Even though his mind’s still in chaos, he feels his lids drifting shut, body almost completely unmoving as his heart slows to a languid, irregular beat.

 

The last thing that flashes in his mind before sleep takes him is a pair of luminous azure eyes staring back like gems in the moonlight.

 

-*-*-

 

Harry’s hesitant about going back to _Arcanum_ , but in the end all he sees is Niall’s hopeful face being dashed to pieces because he’s acting too much like a coward.

 

He goes. He’s not happy about it, but he goes. The bouncers greet him at the door by name and he can’t help but wonder if it really is time to move on. It’s never boded well for him to get too comfortable or accustomed to one place.

 

It’s hard to understand why he keeps putting it off. Knows he should just leave, but when Niall and Zayn send beaming smiles his way once they spot him from the bar, Harry thinks he gets it. It would be hard to give this up.

 

He decides to forgo the bar for a bit. He isn’t too thirsty after drinking from a drunken man stumbling home. He didn’t take much, but Harry still feels the alcohol from the stolen blood coursing through his veins. It’s on just the right side of intoxicating.

 

Harry decides it’s too early to dance as well, and instead chooses to relax on an available couch in the lounge area. Before his arse touches the cushion it hits him. A wave of power that’s quickly becoming familiar. Feels like syrupy caramel. Harry fights off a groan and turns to Louis, who’s taking up about 90% of _his_ seat, which had been empty not two seconds earlier.

 

“Harry.” He greets warmly, and it’s horrifying to realize he actually _misses_ the pet names he so frequently used before. “Fancy meeting you here.”

 

Harry has to squeeze himself uncomfortably into a corner just to make sure there’s no contact between them. Has to remind himself that Louis is still an ancient, and probably has the power to melt him into a pile of goo using just his mind.

 

“Your thoughts are so fascinating.” Louis claims with a wistful smile, cupping his jaw in the palm of his hand while his cerulean blue eyes study Harry, as if he’s an enigma. “I think I could probably listen to them all day and not get bored.”

 

Harry snorts. “You must be easily entertained.”

 

Louis actually pouts. “I’ll have you know it’s very hard to hold my attention.”

 

“And yet here you are, talking to me... _again_.”

 

“Am I bothering you?” Louis asks, sounding amused by the possibility.

 

“You’re purpose bothers me.” Harry admits truthfully.

 

“Purpose? What purpose? Am I not allowed to frequent my child’s club and live while I’m young?”

 

Harry’s fighting a smile because Louis’ a sarcastic little shit. There’s no way he’s even _remotely_ young, even though he looks all of twenty. Still, he has to address the ridiculousness of this situation.

 

“I’ve been coming here for three months, and in all that time I’ve never seen you here before. Not until last night.”

 

“Maybe you just never noticed me.”

 

“Bullshit, I would have noticed you.”

 

“Flatterer.” Louis grins with a flirtatious wink. “Alright, I was busy until yesterday.”

 

Harry shakes his head. “Zayn told you about me, and that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You martyr yourself so you can try and be my surrogate maker or whatever you call it. Make sure nothing bad happens to me so Zayn and Niall are kept happy.”

 

Louis seems to consider this, brow raised as if deliberating.

 

“But it seems you’ve already made up your mind, Harold. Denied my invitation last night and everything. So why would I be back tonight?”

 

Harry shrugs. “Glutton for punishment. Maybe you don’t give up that easily. Maybe you like a challenge. Why else would you be sitting with me?”

 

“Why indeed.” Louis chuckles. “So I’m trying to seduce you, then?”

 

Harry feels blood rush to his cheeks. The very idea that Louis would even have to _try_ is outrageous to him, and yet he still hasn’t given in to the older vampire.

 

“You must really feel like you owe Zayn if you’re willing to claim a stranger as your own.” Harry mutters touchily instead.

 

“Maybe I like you.” Louis whispers, suddenly close enough to press into Harry’s side and breathe into his ear, soft lips brushing the lobe. Harry shivers but sinks deeper into his corner and further away from Louis.

 

“You don’t know me.”

 

Louis’ hand is soft and warm on his thigh.

 

“I could get to know you.”

 

“A waste of time, I’m sure.”

 

Louis pulls back enough for Harry to see a frown taking over his features.

 

“Do you think so little of me, or of yourself?”

 

“Myself, of course.” Harry is quick to correct. “I don’t know you well enough to judge whether getting to know you would be a waste of time, but I do know me, and I’m sure you’ll find me quite dull.”

 

Harry watches Louis blink twice before his eyes soften and a delicate smile curls his lips. “You really _are_ adorable, kitten.”

 

Harry feels his flush spread and his heart beat faster. Louis is utterly infuriating.

 

“I can’t believe you’re actually trying to talk yourself down to me.”

 

Harry shakes his head. “M’just telling the truth.”

 

“Yes, but you use the truth like a weapon, don’t you, pet?” He says it as if he’s proud of Harry or something.

 

“I only tell the truth because you’ll know if I’m lying.” He argues, hating how easily this relative stranger can see right through him. Rile him up like no one else can.

 

“True.” Louis concedes, raising a brow in rebuttal. “But you can also tell if I am being dishonest.”

 

“So, what does that have to do with-”

 

“I want you safe, Harry. I want you to thrive. I want _you._ Now tell me, was that a lie?”

 

Harry stops breathing at Louis’ words, but he can hear the truth in those statements. No ticks in his heartbeat, no rise in his pulse. He’s not lying, but it doesn’t mean anything. It _doesn’t._

 

“It’s not about whether it’s the truth or not, it’s about your reasons behind why you want those things. Why you want _me_.”

 

“Why do you think I want you?” Louis questions, looking curious and inquisitive. The couch’s armrest digs into Harry’s back and he wonders how long Louis’ been steadily getting closer until there was nowhere left for him to go.

 

“Doing a favor.” Harry practically chokes around the lump in his throat, as he leans away while Louis keeps pressing forward. “Some misguided attempt to pay off a debt.”

 

Louis’ got one hand on Harry’s upper thigh and the other one snaking into his hair. He’s going to faint because the older vampire is practically in his lap and Harry can’t fucking breathe. He doesn’t even _need_ to breathe, but he can’t even function!

 

“You think so little of me.” Louis whispers near Harry’s neck. “I’m easily insulted, you know, and I don’t think you’ve said one nice thing about me. Not one.”

 

“You’re persistent.” Harry tries, but Louis looks as if he doesn’t care for it.

 

“Do you find that to be a good thing?”

 

“I’ll let you know when I figure it out.” Harry offers, fighting the urge to wrap his arms around the smaller man’s waist.

 

“Maybe it started for the wrong reasons but now I can’t stop thinking about you.” Louis claims with an edge of joking to his tone.

 

“Don’t play with me.” Harry pleads quietly. Seriously. He lets his eyes fall closed but he can still feel the older vampire’s gaze. When he looks back up at him, Louis meets him head on, unwavering with a considering expression.

 

“I like the way you speak to me, kitten. It’s refreshing.”

 

“Why’s that?”

 

“Because you’re a rare breed that speaks whatever comes into his head. Saves me the trouble of having to read your mind and search for ulterior motives.”

 

“Now _you’re_ insulting _me_.” Harry mutters petulantly, gasping when Louis’ fingers trace his jaw before traveling up to grip his hair and tug.

 

“You’re a rare breed who _doesn’t have_ ulterior motives.”

 

“Unlike you?” Harry bites back, feeling a kind of victory when Louis’ eyes flash a brilliant blue and his own flash back emerald green.

 

“You are cheeky, aren’t you? I think you’re a bad boy who doesn’t respect his elders, and bad boys need to be punished.”

 

Harry feels a horrible thrill over the idea. Can see it so clearly in his mind. Naked and bent over, completely at Louis’ mercy. He can just imagine Louis’ hand pulling back, the sound it would make when his palm connects with his bare ass. The way it would feel. The heat it would ignite-

 

“You’re picturing it, aren’t you pet?”

 

Harry wants to push Louis off. He doesn’t want to be here anymore. Doesn’t want Louis whspering all these temptations into his ear. Possibilities he just can’t afford to entertain. Harry blames the alcohol still in his system for not moving away. He blames Louis for being so damn tempting, but most of all he blames himself for being so weak.

 

“I could make it so good for you.” Louis offers with an enticing tone, nose buried in his hair and warm lips pressed close to his ear. “So good. What are you afraid of?”

 

“Not afraid of the good.” Harry sighs truthfully, giving in a little and gripping Louis’ hips in his big hands. “I’m afraid of what comes after that.”

 

Louis pulls away just enough to be able to gaze down at Harry, his eyes sharp and knowing.

 

“You’re so lonely, and even though I’m offering you companionship, stability, and care...you still refuse. Why?”

 

Harry feels panic, but he has to keep his lips sealed. Can’t so much as put in the effort to half-ass an answer.

 

“Who hurt you, sweetheart? Who made you so cautious?”

 

Harry bolts. Runs away as fast as he can, but he’s only able to escape because Louis _allows_ him to.

 

He doesn’t seek out Niall, or Zayn, and he sure as hell doesn’t look back at Louis, though he can feel his burning eyes on his back all the way to the door.

 

-*-*-

 

Harry’s back the next night, but he can’t remember why. Honestly has no idea why he comes here anymore. It eludes him, really, why he ever thought seeking out more of his kind would be a good idea. Plans on bashing his head against the bar if he has to hear Zayn talk about bonds and makers for one second more.

 

“Niall is everything to me.” The older vampire confesses, and Harry lifts his head, features softening. It doesn’t take a genius to see how in love the two are. It’s enough to make anyone lonely. “I just want you to be as happy as we are.”

 

“No one can be as happy as you two. It’s impossible.” He mutters into his clasped hands.

 

“Don’t know until you try.” Zayn argues. Harry glares at him. “Louis’ been asking about you. Never seen him so interested in someone before.”

 

“He doesn’t know me. I’m sure once he does, the novelty will wear off and I’ll be just as boring as everyone else.”

 

Zayn snorts, shaking his head in amusement. “I highly doubt that.”

 

What does Zayn know, anyway?

 

Niall bounds over to them then, jumping on Zayn’s back and wrapping his arms around his neck. “Call for you, babes.” He mouths against his ear, and Zayn visibly shivers. Harry looks away, feeling his face heat up and irritation settle in his chest. He looks around the club instead, green eyes flashing when the lights bounce off of them.

 

“You’re angry.” Niall suddenly says the moment Zayn’s lost in the crowd.

 

“I’m frustrated.” Harry corrects, still eyeing the dance floor.

 

Niall completely takes him by surprise. “You should be. I mean, I would be if I were in your shoes.”

 

“Then why are you-”

 

“Because, Harry. Do you think I don’t know about how you’re constantly planning on leaving? That this is just another stop along the way for you? I want you to stay, but I also want you safe. I know that makes me selfish, but I’m not inclined to care if it means you find stability and happiness.”

 

“But what if your idea of happiness for me isn’t the same as mine?”

 

“Isn’t it?” Niall retorts. “Are you not lonely?”

 

“I-”

 

“Why do you come here every night constantly searching if not for a companion. Why is it when someone shows an interest in you, you run away?”

 

“Louis isn’t interested in me, Niall.” Harry seethes. “He’s interested in settling a debt.”

 

“What _are_ you talking about?” Niall demands. “Louis doesn’t _owe_ Zayn anything! Besides, do you think anyone could make Louis do anything he didn’t want to?”

 

That’s actually a good point.

 

“I know it is.” Niall huffs, pouring a drink for someone down the bar.

 

“Get out of my head.” Harry mumbles, and Niall laughs at him.

 

“Quit thinking so loud, then.”

 

He does not think loud.

 

“Do too.” The blonde snorts, refilling the peanuts.

 

The stool next to Harry’s becomes occupied by another vampire he’s seen around the club a few times. He’s even caught the stranger staring at him, usually surrounded by a group of at least five others. Thinks his name is Tim...or John.

 

“It’s Tom, and he was just leaving.” Niall corrects, eyeing the other vampire with a look of dislike Harry has never seen before. Niall likes everyone, and he can’t help but wonder what this Tom guy did in order to get on the Irishman’s bad side.

 

“Actually,” Tom cuts in, “I think I’m fine where I am.”

 

Harry is beyond intrigued, is about to ask just what’s going on when he feels an unwelcome hand on his knee.

 

“Harry, right?” The other vampire asks as if trying to be coy, and Harry nods, subtly shifting as far away as he can.

 

“I’ve seen you around sometimes, and I couldn’t help but overhear your little conversation.”

 

“Eavesdropping is more like it.” Niall bites out, but Tom doesn’t so much as bat an eye. He doesn’t have that intense aura of power the way Louis or Zayn does, but he’s definitely older then Harry and Niall, which could be why the blonde looks suddenly nervous.

 

“Tell me if it’s true then, Harry. Are you really not bonded to anyone?”

 

Or maybe that’s why Niall looks about ready to jump over the bar, because now Harry’s stomach is plummeting and he’s trying not to tremble in his seat. He’s never been confronted about his lack of a maker here before. It’s always been a safe place, under the watchful eyes of Zayn and Niall. But Zayn’s not here now and Niall looks frozen.

 

Harry doesn’t know what to say, and Tom’s hand is starting to grip his leg painfully.

 

“That’s none of your business.” Niall glares for nothing. Tom’s still ignoring him, all attention focused solely on Harry.

 

“It could be.” He claims, fingers dancing along the inner seam of his jeans.

 

Harry removes his hand, keeps his voice firm when he speaks. “No thank you.” He rejects, trying not to visibly cringe when something ugly flashes across Tom’s face.

 

“What did you say?”

 

“He said no.” Niall challenges, voice booming unnecessarily above the music. He does look pretty damn pleased with himself, though. Harry doesn’t want any awkward air between them, and he tries to soothe over any hard feelings.

 

“I’m sure you’re...great.” Harry chokes out. “It’s just...you don’t know me, I don’t know you, it’s a little forward to be offering to bond when there’s nothing there, yeah?” He asks logically, motioning between them as if in demonstration.

 

Tom’s hand grips his wrist, and Harry flinches when he’s assaulted with the sweet smell of caramel.

 

“Am I interrupting something?” Louis asks from behind them, and Harry turns wide pleading eyes to him, genuinely shocked to find that he’s happy to see him. Louis looks thunderous, his power leaking off of him in waves and making Harry feel dizzy.

 

“Tom was just leaving.” Niall exclaims with a grin, and Tom reluctantly lets go of Harry with a sneer. Louis watches him go with an unblinking gaze, and Harry tires not to fall off of his stool.

 

“Was he honestly disappointed that he failed with that kind of persuasion?” Harry asks in confusion, Niall giving a shrug in answer.

 

“Tom’s always been a bag a dicks.” He mutters, wiping down the counter while Louis slides seamlessly into Tom’s vacated seat. Harry can’t help but think he fits better there.

 

“I beg to differ. A bag of dicks would be far more pleasant than that moron.” Louis scoffs, and Harry actually chokes on a laugh, only to sharply cut himself off. Although their approach isn’t the same, Tom and Louis aren’t all that different.

 

Harry sighs, digging his fingernails into the wood of the bar before gaining his feet. “M’gonna go dance.” He informs, not waiting for an answer before heading out to the floor. He’s not surprised in the least when Louis follows him. Ignores him for as long as he can while he takes in the music and finds a rhythm, hips moving to the beat.

 

“Can I talk to you?” Louis asks from behind him, and Harry sways around so they’re facing each other. He’s not rude, after all.

 

“You are talking to me.” He answers cheekily, continuing to dance even as Louis moves in close, his own body moving effortlessly to the song.

 

“I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

 

The apology renders Harry immobile, and he’s left gaping at Louis on the dance floor. The older vampire doesn’t seem like the type to apologize for anything, and the fact that he’s doing so now is throwing him off.

 

“Wha-what for?” He stutters, ringing his hands nervously for reasons unknown to him.

 

“For what I said yesterday. I obviously made you uncomfortable and that wasn’t my intention.”

 

“This whole situation makes me uncomfortable.” Harry blurts out, instantly regretting it. That wasn’t nice. Louis’ trying to say sorry and he’s being insensitive. Louis isn’t the least bit angry. He chuckles instead.

 

“That isn’t what I wanted, and I’m sorry.”

 

Harry’s quiet, eyes roaming the older vampire as he studies him, floored by his sincerity.

 

“I accept your apology. I shouldn’t.” He says quickly when Louis looks victorious. “But I do.”

 

“Dance with me.” Louis purrs seductively, warm hands framing Harry’s hips perfectly in order to pull him closer. Harry can’t help but laugh.

 

“We _are_ dancing.”

 

“No.” Louis denies, drawing out the word while bringing their bodies flush together, Harry’s arms winding around Louis’ shoulders. They begin to move in tandem, Harry’s breath catching over how well they fit. “ _Now_ we’re dancing.”

 

Harry feels like he could grow very fond of being wrapped up in Louis, feeling his fingers play with the ends of his curls, tickling along the sensitive skin of his neck. Harry shivers, eyes sliding shut but trusting Louis to guide him. Harry leans down, head spinning and feeling drunk off of Louis’ presence. Their foreheads touch and Harry mewls in relief.

 

“Jesus, pet, what are you doing to me.” Louis sighs, making Harry smile.

 

“M’not doing anything.” He chuckles, gasping when Louis’ hands travel up, properly burying them in Harry’s hair and giving a light tug. It makes him moan, eyes fluttering and rolling to the back of his head. Harry moves his own hands, allowing them to slide down Louis’ slender body, learning the feel of him before settling against his lower back.

 

Harry’s jeans are uncomfortably tight, the way they’re practically grinding against each other making him hard and heavy between his legs. Of course he can’t hide it from Louis.

 

“Is all that for me, kitten?” He mouths against Harry’s lobe, slotting his thigh against him, some much needed friction making Harry whimper and thrust down harder. His own leg brushes just right against the older vampire and when he feels Louis’ hard arousal press into him he throws his head back and whines.

 

They’re rutting like animals on the dance floor in front of everyone when Harry realizes what he’s doing and tenses up. This isn’t like him. This isn’t like him at all. He’s losing himself because of this man.

 

Louis stops as well when he notices how panicked Harry looks, his brow pinched in worry and confusion.

 

“Harry-”

 

“I- I have to go. I have to...” He doesn’t bother to explain himself as he leaves Louis on the dance floor. He’s getting very good at running away.

 

-*-*-

 

Harry doesn’t go back to _Arcanum_ the following night, or the night after that. He’s not hiding, he has to work. He genuinely likes his job. It’ll be one of the few things he'll miss when he finally leaves this town. The smell of bread baking as it slowly rises, mixed in with the sugary sweet scent that positively emanates from all the various pastries and cakes is a pleasant experience he won't forget.

 

The bakery is his home away from home, and he’s lucky Barbara trusts him enough to work by himself at night, cleaning up and preparing everything for the morning rush.

 

Harry remembers a time he was able to befriend fellow coworkers and mess around when things got slow, but he supposes this isn’t so bad. He’s used to the quiet. Sometimes fills the silence with soft humming or the latest song he can’t get out of his head.

 

He’s just putting the eclairs away when a foreign sound reaches his sensitive hearing. He barely picks up on it, but it sounds like still air shifting. Flowing movement that wasn’t there before. Harry spins around and feels his heart drop to his stomach.

 

“Jesus Christ!” He’s definitely validated in yelling when he sees Louis leaning against the doorframe as casual as can be. Harry bends over slightly and puts his hands on his knees, trying to calm down after the shock of being snuck up on. It hasn’t happened since he was turned, having the hearing of a fucking bat.

 

“What are you doing here?” He gasps out, straightening up and doing his best to stare down the smaller vampire.

 

Louis looks at him as if he should already know the answer. “You weren’t at the club.” He states like it’s enough of an explanation.

 

“So you decided to sneak into my place of work and- wait,” He interrupts himself with a frown. “How do you know where I work?”

 

Louis snorts and pulls away from the washroom door. “I know where you work, I know where you live. I’m not someone you can easily hide from, kitten.”

 

“Stop calling me that.” Harry demands. “I feel like I need a restraining order.”

 

“And I feel I should inform you that a restraining order wouldn’t much work on me, sweets.”

 

Harry gives a put-upon sigh over the entire situation while watching as Louis eyes the bread in the oven.

 

“You remember when I called you persistent and I hadn’t decided if it was a good or a bad thing?”

 

“Mm-hmm.” Louis hums, still examining his surroundings as if he finds everything fascinating.

 

“It’s a bad thing.” Harry finishes firmly, and Louis actually chuckles before turning mirthful eyes in his direction.

 

“You’re lying.”

 

“I am, yes.” Harry admits, because he can’t help but feel grateful that Louis is here, chasing away the loneliness and the pressing quiet. It’s all Harry’s known for the past year and he’s sick of it.

 

“Do you know how to bake?” He suddenly asks, delighted when Louis scrunches up his nose over the question before shaking his head.

 

“When I was alive, I had people who cooked for me.”

 

“Shame.” Harry breathes quietly, turning back to his muffin ingredients.

 

Louis seems to deliberate internally for a moment before he moves into Harry’s side. “I could watch you do it. You could teach me?” He offers; actually sounding hopeful, and Harry’s heart swells from that alone.

 

“You really want to learn?”

 

“I want _you_ to teach me.” Louis corrects, as if it’s a completely different answer, and Harry supposes it is.

 

“Hand me that bowl.” He says with a grin, and Louis raises a brow at him, something mischievous flashing in his ocean-blue eyes.

 

“Say please, kitten.”

 

Harry’s heart _does not_ skip a beat.

 

He licks his lips and whispers, “please.”

 

“Good boy.” Louis hands him the bowl. Harry’s dick is hard.

 

It’s terrible after that. He narrates what he’s doing and Louis avidly takes it in, but Harry’s so turned on his hands are practically shaking. He fears these are going to be the worst chocolate chip muffins he’s ever made. Not that he’s the one that will have to eat them, but still, he feels like he’s failed _someone._ Himself, probably.

 

He tries not to think about how surreal his life has become since he was turned. Here he is, working nights alone at a bakery while teaching an ancient vampire how to bake. A vampire who’s practically stalking him and offering to be his maker, treating him like he’s a little boy with a behavioral problem and acting like he’s his...

 

His _daddy._

Harry shouldn’t like the sound of that as much as he does. Shouldn’t want it. Doesn’t stop him though.

 

Louis moves in closer suddenly, tongue peeking out between his lips in a look of concentration while he rubs his thumb over the corner of Harry’s mouth in maddening circles.

 

“W-what are you doing?” Harry stutters, cursing himself for sounding so wrecked.

 

“You managed to get flour all over your face. Are you aware of how messy you are?”

 

“I suppose I am now. You don’t have to take it off for me. I’ll shower when I get home.”

 

Louis looks at him like he’s daft. “I like taking care of you.” He claims, going back to his task. How does he do that? How does Louis manage to terrify and infuriate him in one instance before inducing such a yearning for what he’s offering in the next without messing a beat? It’s illogical.

 

“You smell like caramel to me.” Harry blurts out, wanting to bash his head on the polished counters over how ridiculous he sounds. Louis looks at him with interest.

 

“Do I now?”

 

Harry nods slowly. “I’ve never met another vampire before that has a distinct scent like that. Not that I’ve met many vampires...”

 

“Sure it’s not something in here that smells like caramel?” Louis asks, idly looking around. Harry shakes his head adamantly.

 

“Recognized it in the club.” He admits, shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot.

 

“It smells good to you?”

 

Harry nods again.

 

“You smell good to me too.”

 

His breath catches at that particular confession. He’s curious, can’t help but ask.

 

“What do I smell like?”

 

Louis moves in closer, and for every step he takes forward Harry should take two steps back. He needs to keep his distance from this man, but he just can’t. Allows Louis to crowd him up against the counter, the cold tile bleeding into the fabric of his shirt and making him tremble.

 

Louis practically shoves his face into Harry’s neck, right where his pounding pulse beats, taking a deep breath in before letting it stutter out.

 

“You smell like French vanilla.” He reveals, voice wrecked as he nuzzles against his throat, his entire body rubbing against Harry’s, making his nipples tighten and his cock grow heavy. “Rich and thick and I bet you taste so fucking good.”

 

“Nngh.” Harry responds, getting his hands on Louis’ chest in order to push him away. His fingers dig into his shirt material instead, as if the idea of parting with him is too much.

 

Louis’ fingers dance along his jugular, his eyes staring reverently at the pale skin there as if transfixed. His tiny sharp fangs glint in the light when he pulls his lip back till they’re exposed. As if he wants to bite him. Wants to taste.

 

“Yes.” Louis says in answer to his unspoken question, tongue darting out and drawing Harry’s gaze.

 

“Can’t.” Harry denies, because if Louis bites him, it’ll be to mark him as his own. To claim ownership. He’s being enticed. Taken advantage of, because Louis still has an endgame. “Stop. We have to stop.” Harry demands, head somewhat clearer. Louis pulls back immediately.

 

They both stare at each other from opposite ends, and Harry almost laughs at the picture they make. Disheveled clothes, mussed hair, both breathing heavy.

 

They take a moment and remain quiet. Of course it’s Louis who breaks the silence.

 

“Say you’ll come to the club tomorrow. That you won’t hide from me anymore.”

 

“Thought you said I _couldn’t_ hide from you.”

 

“Harry.” Louis growls warningly and the sound is enough to send shivers spiraling down his spine.

 

“Why? You’re only going to try and seduce me.”

 

“Will you be a good boy and let me?” Louis asks, sounding almost pained. “Let me try, pet.”

 

Harry lets out a wanton moan before he can stop himself, and he can see the way Louis’ straining to hold himself back from him, respecting Harry’s wish to stop with the physical contact.

 

“I’m not going to make any promises on _that._ ” Harry hisses, tight trousers uncomfortable in his arousal. “But I will come back to the club tomorrow.” He concedes before he has a chance to regret it.

 

“Don’t go breaking your promises, kitten.” Louis says with a playful tone, but Harry can tell he’s serious.

 

“I wont, I swear.”

 

“Such a good boy for me.” Louis’ so fast, Harry feels; more than sees, him place a gentle kiss on the palm of his hand, and just like that, Harry’s alone again. Now that Louis’ gone, the silence is worse than before.

 

It’s deafening without the easy way he carries himself, all that power so tightly controlled. It’s deafening without his joyful laugh or the way his eyes flash blue and crinkle at the corners when he smiles. But mostly, it’s deafening without the sound of his obscene voice, whispering about how Harry’s his very good boy.

 

-*-*-

 

Harry’s nervous. He stands in front of his full length mirror that’s shoddily attached to his closet and actually critiques his outfit. He’s changed twice already, having forgone wearing his black jeans since they have holes in the knees, and that only leaves his blue jeans because he only owns the two pair. They’re tight and that’s good. They showcase his long legs nicely and meld to his skin temptingly (he hopes).

 

Harry shakes his head in denial. No, he shouldn’t want to be tempting. Shouldn’t want to catch Louis’ eye at all. What he should be doing is packing and getting the hell out of this town.

 

Harry changes his shirt. Decides on a soft white top with a low hanging collar that puts his tattoos on display.

 

He turns away from the mirror when Dusty meows from the open window.

 

“Don’t judge me.” Harry pleads when the cat stares at him with unblinking eyes. “I just want to look nice.”

 

Dusty stares.

 

“You think I’m trying too hard.”

 

The stare intensifies.

 

Harry sighs and closes his closet back up.

 

“I’m just gonna go. This is fine. I look fine.” He quickly grabs his wallet and keys, informing Dusty about the milk he left in the kitchen before heading out the door. If he stays he’ll only go through another pointless wardrobe change.

 

-*-*-

 

“You look nervous.” Niall claims with narrowed eyes, easily heard above the blaring music of the club.

 

“M’not.” Harry denies, ignoring the blood the blonde had placed in front of him the moment he sat down. He hasn’t really been eating these past few days and a part of his mind is screaming at him to drink his fill. Knows he shouldn’t ignore his hunger but he just...can’t right now.

 

“Really?” Niall asks with a frown, tone disbelieving. “Why do you keep looking around?”

 

“I’m people watching.” Harry responds, and it’s partly true. He’s Louis watching.

 

“Oh yeah? Why?”

 

“What do you mean _why_? You don’t find people interesting?”

 

Harry feels guilty when he sees the confusion flash across the Irish vampire’s face. He’s just...tired, irritable and hungry and Louis still isn’t anywhere to be seen.

 

“Sorry.” He mumbles, knowing Niall will hear him. “S’just been a rough couple of days.”

 

“I can see that. You look as white as a sheet, mate.”

 

Harry knows he’s right. Couldn’t help but notice how pale he’d become. Dark circles prominent under his eyes. It’s ridiculous how much he’s allowing this situation to effect him.

 

“I think I might be thinking of doing something.” Harry confesses, to which Niall simply raises another brow at him.

 

“I can’t understand your gibberish right now.”

 

Harry sighs and goes back to searching the faces of every club-goer he sees, hoping that he’ll find Louis’ among them.

 

He doesn’t.

 

This hurts. The way that it comes as a surprise but it shouldn’t. He should know better. Should have learned his lesson the first time. People get your hopes up. Make false promises and let you down. He knew this would happen, and he let it progress regardless.

 

Actually entertained the idea of saying yes to Louis. To giving himself over.

 

He’s so fucking naive.

 

“Babe.” Zayn greets, coming up behind Niall to wrap his arms around him before flashing a smile Harry’s way. “Why the glum faces?”

“Harry’s acting weird.” Niall claims with a suspicious look, tracing down Zayn’s tattooed arms with the tips of his fingers.

 

“Alright Harry?” Zayn asks, looking concerned.

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“You look a little peckish.”

 

“He wont touch the blood I gave him.” Niall reveals and together they stare at him with worried-filled gazes.

 

“Stop, both of you. You’re acting like you’re my parents.”

 

“Saving that role for someone else?” Zayn grins and Niall elbows him in the ribs.

 

Harry feels sick. Wonders how obvious it must be that he’s practically gagging for Louis’ attention. He feels like a child. The only one left in the dark when everyone else can clearly see the picture.

 

“I’m gonna go home.” He mutters, trying not to stumble from his chair as he’s hit with a wave of dizziness.

 

“You just got here.” Niall protests, eyes pinched in a frown before his expression smoothes out to look at Harry imploringly. “Why don’t you stay for awhile. Drink something.”

 

Harry’s already shaking his head. He doesn’t want to stay here another minute. Doesn’t want to see pity in anyone’s face. Doesn’t want to remember the fact that the only reason Louis ever paid any attention to him in the first place was due to pity. Harry might not have anyone else, but he still has his dignity, and the first thing he’s going to do when he gets back to his crappy apartment is pack up his shit and get the hell out of here.

 

“Just remembered I have something I need to take care of.” Harry says lamely. “Lots of stuff.”

 

He more or less trips out of the club, relishing the cool night air on his face that helps to clear up some of the fuzziness in his head. Harry shoves his hands in his trouser pockets, pulling them out again when he realizes just how tight they are and begins to walk aimlessly.

 

The moon is full tonight and Harry enjoys being under its glow. Enjoys the sounds and smells of the city around him, so alive and vibrant in its maze of alleyways and endless streets. He doesn’t want to think about the disappointment curling sickeningly in his stomach. Doesn’t want to think about anything for awhile.

 

It’s in a somewhat deserted neighborhood when he hears it. The scuffling noises of a struggle. The trembling of a woman’s voice followed by the gruff timbre of a man’s. He doesn’t even have to think about it before he’s seeking them out, finds them tucked away next to some dumpsters in a back alley.

 

It’s clear what’s going on before Harry can even see them. The woman is adamantly telling the man ‘no’ while he ignores her protests, pawing at her clothes like a brute.

 

Something in him shifts, seamlessly taking over as he pulls the guy off of the panicking woman and calmly instructs her to run. She doesn’t hesitate. Harry waits till she’s gone. Ignores the man’s indignant snarls and threats while he tracks her progress, hears the sound of a car engine before it drives off.

 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Let go of me you piece of shit!”

 

Harry throws him against the side of the brick building. Feels a sick thrill course through him like lightning over the crack he hears on impact. The man shuts up and Harry inhales the crisp air deeply.

 

“You think this is a game?” He demands, slowly stalking forward. “Think you can just take what you want, regardless of permission? Think you can use others and wash your hands of it?”

 

The man groans from his slumped position on the ground.

 

“Don’t understand what no means?”

 

“Fuck you.” He spits out, trying unsuccessfully to lift his head.

 

“She doesn’t need you.” Harry growls, lifting the man up into the air with just one hand, watching in satisfaction as his feet dangle and fear flashes through his bloodshot eyes.

 

“She doesn’t want you, you pathetic piece of meat.”

 

The smell hits him like a rock, wafting through the air and making him salivate. The blow must have broken skin, because the sharp, unmistakable scent of fresh blood is making him dizzy with hunger.

 

Harry’s eyes widen, pupils blown as he slowly lowers the struggling man down, watching the way his neck gets closer and closer.

 

He doesn’t think. Doesn’t deliberate, he just bites, absently hearing the man’s strained cry as he fights against him. He’s nothing compared to Harry’s strength, as defenseless as an infant while the first mouthful of blood hits his tongue. Harry moans in absolute pleasure, latching on and sucking down deep pulls of sustenance. It’s like being hit with a live wire, a hot fire entering his body and charging everything it hits.

 

The man’s struggles get sluggish. Die down. Harry’s captivated by the beat of his heart. The way it had sped up in the beginning but now, with each passing second, it grows slower, the time between beats getting longer, fewer and farther between.

 

Harry feels drunk off of it. He doesn’t want to pull off until he hears nothing but quiet, ignores the voice in the back of his head trying to warn him about why that’s a bad idea.

 

But then the sweet smell of caramel hits him and he’s being pulled away. Harry feels a hard, cold wall at his back, has to force his eyes open to take in his surroundings. Everything comes to him in flashes, sharp Technicolor angles vibrant and fighting for attention. He’s never taken that much blood before. Never felt the heavy drugged feeling taking over his senses in a kind of overload that his body is having trouble handling.

 

“Look at me.” A sweet but firm voice commands. “Harry, look at me.”

 

Harry tries, but his head feels unattached and out of his control. He lets his eyes flutter open and sees him then. Louis’ soft hair, bright blue eyes illuminated with something that looks very much like terror.

 

Louis’ scared.

 

He’s startled by a sharp slap to the cheek.

 

“Come on, love, focus.”

 

“M’tired, Lou.” He mumbles, wanting nothing more than to pull the older vampire to him and sleep.

 

“No, don’t do that, Harry. No sleeping, okay? I need to get this out.”

 

Harry has no idea what he’s talking about, but when his head falls forward after his inability to hold it up any longer he sees it. What can only be the handle of a knife sticking out of his chest, dangerously close to his heart, his white shirt covered in red. When did that get there? He hadn’t even felt it.

 

“Come on pet, just hold onto me, yeah?”

 

Harry tries to nod and ends up nuzzling into Louis’ hair instead. His hands feel numb and his grip is for shit.

 

“Close enough.” Louis mutters somewhere in front of him.

 

Harry feels an uncomfortable pulling sensation, but nothing more. He’s almost beyond pain, he’s sure of it.

 

“There. Come on, kitten. Can you talk to me? Tell me how you feel?” Louis urges, and Harry so desperately wants to please him, but he remembers earlier at the club, and he lets out a whimper.

 

“Alone.” He whispers, fighting the urge to cry. “I feel alone.”

 

“You’re not alone, darling, I’m right here with you.”

 

“Couldn’t find you earlier. I looked.”

 

“M’here now, Harry. Not going anywhere.”

 

“Did I kill him?” Harry asks, voice trembling with the possibility. He’s never killed a human before. Doesn’t want that kind of mark on his soul, if he still has one.

 

“No, but you should have.” Louis growls, effortlessly picking Harry up and cradling him in his arms. He can feel the rush of night air against his skin as they speed off into the night. Harry tries not to feel nauseas, fighting the dizziness that tries to overtake him.

 

“Don’t wanna be a killer.”

 

“You’re not a killer, you probably just took more than you’re used to.” He breathes into Harry’s curls.

 

“Feel heavy.”

 

“It’ll pass. You just need to sleep it off.” The older vampire assures. Lips pressing against Harry’s temple now.

 

“How did you find me?” Harry demands huskily. “I couldn’t find you.”

 

“I’ll always find you, kitten. Promise. Now sleep.”

 

Harry buries his face in Louis neck, snuggling into him as much as he possibly can before he willingly obeys.

 

-*-*-

 

He feels like he’s floating. Soft pillow-like clouds conforming to his body and easing him down into what feels like waves of warm water. He never wants to leave this place. Everything’s cozy and easy here. Nothing can touch him.

 

But then gentle fingers card through his hair, softly twirling his curls before massaging his scalp, and he thinks this is okay.

 

“Are you back with me, baby?” A familiar, silky voice asks, and Harry wants to bow to that voice. Revels in the affection that’s easily distinguishable. It’s what Harry’s craved for so long. Someone to be there for him. Someone to love him and to take care of him. Someone who will cherish him the way Harry yearns for. Someone to make proud.

 

“Mm-hmm." Harry hums, still feeling that deep heaviness that won’t allow him to move or even so much as open his eyes. “Right here, daddy.”

 

The hand in his hair stills and it’s only when Harry whimpers that it resumes its gentle ministrations.

 

“Can you open your eyes for me, sweetheart?” Louis urges, and Harry doesn’t want to do that at all. Feels like it’ll be way too much effort, but his desire to please the older vampire outweighs his own needs. He blinks a few times, vision swimming and taking nothing in. He keeps at it, even when it gets bright and his eyes feel sensitive.

 

“Need me to dim the lights, baby?”

 

“Please, daddy.” Harry rasps, a hazy fog making everything cloudy.

 

The light softens, and Harry sighs in relief, feeling the surface beneath him dip when Louis climbs back on. He’s on a bed then, he decides, just as his surroundings begin to focus. Harry cautiously looks around, not recognizing anything he sees.

 

“I brought you back to mine, love. How are you feeling?” Louis asks, and Harry turns a grateful gaze to the other man. Louis always knows just what he’s thinking. Louis takes such good care of him.

 

“Feel floaty.” He admits, reaching out to him with grabby hands, wanting very much for them to be touching now. Louis’ chest is bare, powerful body on display and Harry wants to learn the texture of his skin. The taste of his flesh. Louis crawls over him, hovers above so no contact is made and Harry whines petulantly.

 

“Daddy.” He groans, throwing his head back against the bed in frustration. When he looks back up at Louis, the older vampire is giving him a curious, intrigued look.

 

“Why are you calling me that, kitten?” He asks, and it’s a miracle that he doesn’t sound disgusted or pissed off. Harry’s tongue feels heavy but he searches for the words.

 

He tries to arrange his thoughts. Doesn’t bother to censor them as he thinks about placing all the control in Louis’ capable hands. How he’ll know what to do with that control. Louis will take such good care of him. He’ll make the decisions that will keep Harry safe and loved and cared for. He wants that. God, he wants it so bad.

 

Louis’ fingers skim down Harry’s cheek, tracing his swollen red lips as he seems to consider something.

 

“You really want all that, pet? Want me to be your daddy?”

 

Louis obviously read his thoughts, pulled his very desires from his mind, but Harry couldn’t be more thankful. Isn’t sure he could have put it into words if he’d tried.

 

“Want it.” Harry moans, grabbing at Louis’ arms when he’s finally able to get his hands working. “Want it so much, daddy.”

 

“Baby,” Louis coos, staring down at Harry with so much raw emotion that he feels moisture gather in his eyes, “all you had to do was ask.”

 

Harry’s mind is slowly returning to him, memories flooding in at an alarming rate. He gasps when it comes rushing back, realizes he needs something now that only Louis can give him.

 

“I hurt someone tonight.” He whispers, feeling shame and disappointment clench and coil sickeningly in the pit of his stomach.

 

“He’ll be fine, love, you didn’t take enough to kill him.”

 

Harry shakes his head, disregarding Louis’ attempts to soothe him.

 

“I was bad, daddy. Need to be punished.”

 

Louis’ eyes flash a fiery blue, a mask settling over his features. A decision clearly reached in the way he holds himself.

 

“You only want to be punished so you can feel better.” Louis claims without missing a beat, voice firm and full of what sounds like disappointment. It makes Harry shiver. Makes him want to try harder to please him. “That sounds very selfish of you, Harry. I should just leave you here to think about what you’ve done.”

 

Harry whines, shakes his head back and forth adamantly. “Daddy.” He begs. It feels like all the blood he’d stolen earlier is rushing south, filling up his cock between his legs. He’d taken so much and he’s so fucking hard now he can’t think.

 

“You were supposed to wait for me at the club.” Louis admonishes and Harry whimpers.

 

“I did, daddy. I swear.”

 

“No, you were impatient. Niall said you weren’t even there for twenty minutes before you were storming out. You didn’t wait for daddy at all.”

 

Harry feels as if his heart has been wrenched because Louis is right. It’s a horrible feeling, but he wants to do better. Wants to be a good boy for Louis. For his _daddy._ So good for him.

 

“Look what happened as a result of your impatience. Lost control, didn’t you?”

 

Harry’s lip quivers but he nods in answer.

 

“The man had a knife, and you’re still so young.” Louis whispers, but to Harry his voice sounds loud. “You’ve disappointed me tonight a great deal.”

 

Harry wants to cry. Has never felt this breakable before.

 

“I’m sorry, daddy.” He chokes out, and Louis’ expression doesn’t waver.

 

“We’ll see how sorry you are.” He promises ominously, making Harry’s breath catch in his throat. “Unbutton your trousers.”

 

Harry’s entire body shivers. He brings his hands to his zip, fingers trembling and still feeling heavy. He struggles, but Louis doesn’t berate him. Watches stoically as Harry finally manages to push the button through the hole and part the material. He’s starts pushing them down when Louis clicks his tongue at him in dissatisfaction.

 

“Did I tell you to take them off?”

 

“No, daddy.”

 

“What did I say then?”

 

“Y-you told me to unbutton them.” Harry whispers on an exhale.

 

“So you _can_ listen?” Louis asks somewhat condescendingly, and Harry lets his fingers drop from his tight jeans. “Your shirt’s completely ruined due to your lack of patience.” Louis sighs, tone weary. Harry gasps when the white, blood-stained material is ripped from his body as if it were wrapping paper.

 

“Get on your hands and knees.” Louis demands flippantly, tossing his shirt carelessly over his shoulder. Harry shifts and hurries to do as he’s ordered, but his head is still fuzzy and his body is unbalanced. His knees wobble and his hands are shaking so bad when he tries to assume the position that he feels the world tilt dangerously when he leans a little too far to the left.

 

“Dizzy, pet?” Louis asks, but he knows. He always knows.

 

“M’fine, daddy.” Harry assures through clenched teeth. He’s not weak. He can fucking stay on his knees.

 

“Lie down, kitten. On you front.” Louis instructs, but Harry’s shaking his head, feeling hot tears spill from his eyes.

 

“I can do it.”

 

“It wasn’t a suggestion, Harry. Do what I say.”

 

He’s crying when he lowers himself back down to the mattress. Can’t even follow a simple order as easy as staying on his knees. He’s so pathetic. No wonder everyone leaves him. Louis will do the same. He’ll grow tired of Harry’s inability to please him. To-

 

“Enough of that, love. You don’t get to abuse yourself like that. Do you know why?”

 

Harry chokes on a sob, but he manages to hold it in while shaking his head.

 

“Because you belong to me, baby. I decide when you're bad, not you. I will give you your punishment, not you. Understand? Do you trust me to do that? To know what’s best?”

 

Harry nods as fast as he can, because he can do that. He can give Louis the power.

 

“Good boy. Lift your hips for me.” Harry obeys, and a soft, feathery pillow is placed beneath him. He can do nothing but lay there while Louis maneuvers him and positions him like a rag doll. Harry gasps when Louis yanks his trousers down and off completely, the cool air hitting his bum. He feels exposed and vulnerable, completely at Louis’ mercy.

 

“Not wearing any pants? Do you walk around anxious for someone to use you, Harry?”

 

Harry buries his face deeper into the pillows, shaking his head and biting off a whine. His fangs sink into his bottom lip, and he focuses on the pain to try and stay grounded. Louis hasn’t even touched him yet and he’s already falling apart.

 

“Quit biting, Harry, I can smell the blood from here. I want to hear you.”

 

Harry releases his lip and whimpers, arching his back to present himself in what he hopes to be an appealing way.

 

“None of that, pet. You’ll take what I give you only when I give it to you.” Louis growls, swatting Harry’s bare arse just hard enough that it stings. Harry hisses, but forces his body to settle.

 

 _I’m inside your head, love._ Louis’ voice echos from within his mind. _If at any time this becomes too much for you, I’ll know, and I’ll stop. But I need you to trust me to know your limits. To know what you can and can’t handle. Can you do that for me, kitten? Can you trust me?_

Harry trembles at the sound of Louis’ voice in his head, not because it feels like an invasion anymore, but because it feels like something that could potentially belong.

“I trust you, daddy.” Harry swears aloud and Louis gives a hum of approval.

 

“I know, baby. Are you ready for your punishment?”

 

“Ready, daddy.” Harry sighs, voice muffled by the pillows in his face. He expects it to start right away, almost flinches in anticipation of the pain, but instead he feels firm, but gentle hands grip the backs of his thighs, kneading the muscles while steadily traveling up.

 

Harry chokes out a moan when Louis palms his arse in two strong handfuls.

 

The soft touch vanishes quickly, and before Harry can regroup, a sharp crack echos throughout the room and Harry hears it before he feels it. A terrible pain blooming right where his thigh meets his bum. The surprise of it has him crying out and tears collecting in his eyes.

 

Louis’ only using the palm of his hand, but he has inhuman strength behind each blow, and Harry trembles when another slap is delivered to the opposite cheek. His back bows as his body tries to shy away from the pain, but there is nowhere he can go where Louis won’t follow.

 

“You’re so fair, love. Turning red for me already.” Louis praises, and it sends a hot pulse straight to Harry’s cock to hear how pleased his daddy is with him.

 

Harry actually moans when the next blow is delivered, the way it hurts bleeding into something else. Pleasure coursing down his sides and spreading to his core.

 

“Stop rutting against the bed, Harry. This isn’t about your enjoyment, understand? I’m doing this because of your poor decisions. Because you need to learn a lesson, don’t you.” It isn’t phrased as a question.

 

“Yes, daddy. I’ll do better, I promise.”

 

Louis doesn’t comment on that. Chooses instead to put more force behind the hits he delivers to Harry’s tingling skin.

 

Louis gets into a rhythm, swinging his arm forward and back, peppering Harry’s backside and thighs with well-placed smacks and using his vampire speed to his advantage. Harry doesn’t have time to adjust at all. Feels overloaded on sensation, pain and pleasure. He’s leaking between his legs. Can feel his arousal like a dry fire spreading quick and fast.

 

Harry senses a cloud rolling in at the edge of his vision. A kind of stormy fog that makes him feel heavier, but not burdened. It feels like sinking into a warm bath, just as he’d experienced earlier. A floating kind of weightlessness.

 

The pain and the pleasure aren’t relevant here. A distant sensation that hardly registers. Harry’s felt something like this before. When the older vampires - like Louis or Zayn - let their power and influence run rampant. It has a kind of intoxicated effect.

 

Harry drifts peacefully, his mind blissfully blank. He isn’t sure how long stays like that, feeling blanketed and safe, but when he comes to, he hears Louis’ voice cooing to him.

 

“So good for me, baby. Took your punishment so well.”

 

Everything comes back slowly. The warmth leaking from Louis body and into his own. The hand carding through his curls, gently playing with the strands. Fingers tenderly tracing his eyelashes and lids.

 

Harry mewls, pushing into the touch like a greedy kitten.

 

“Are you back with me, darling?”

 

Harry blinks his eyes open in answer, throat feeling like it was rubbed down with sandpaper. He’s on his back now, and Louis hovers closely above him.

 

“Daddy?” He rasps in confusion, and Louis smiles serenely.

 

“I’m here, love.”

 

“I’m sorry.” Harry whispers, lips trembling as his eyes fill.

 

“I know, baby. You did something bad and I had to punish you, but did you learn from it? Do you understand why daddy had to do that?”

 

Harry nods with fervor. “I understand.”

 

Louis beams down at him, obviously pleased. “Good boy.” He praises, closing the distance between them until their noses brush. Louis moves further, nuzzles into Harry’s hair.

 

Harry doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the praise. The way it makes him feel whole and complete.

 

“You didn’t come, even though you were so hard. So desperate for it. You went under easy. That’s good, baby. My very best boy.”

 

Harry can feel it now. He’s still hard between his legs, but release isn’t a priority. After all, his daddy had told him this wasn’t about his pleasure. Not this time, at least, and Harry feels excitement run through him over the possibility of more.

 

Louis’ brilliant blue eyes search his and Harry stares back unwaveringly.

 

“You’re so beautiful.” Louis breathes out, and Harry’s own breath stutters in his throat over the compliment.

 

Harry wants to shake his head. Wants to speak out against that statement, because Louis is the one who is beautiful. Beautiful, generous and kind and Harry wants him to know the devastation that his deep emotions are causing. But like all things, Louis seems to know already.

 

“Come here, kitten. Sit in daddy’s lap.”

 

Harry still feels weighed down. Heavy and distorted, but Louis gathers him up in his arms as if he’s as light as a feather.

 

“There you go.” Louis soothes once Harry’s settled and pressing his face into the older man’s throat. He breathes in his scent, caramel and power swirling to create something truly addictive.

 

“Daddy?”

 

“Yeah, baby?”

 

“I was good?” Harry wheedles, and Louis pulls back in order to look him in the eyes.

 

“Of course, sweetheart, I said you were, didn’t I?”

 

“It’s just...” Harry bites his lip. The sharp points of his incisors, nearly piercing flesh.

 

“Don’t bite your lip, kitten.” Louis orders firmly and Harry immediately lets up. “Now, tell me what’s on your mind.”

 

“If I was good,” Harry starts tentatively, “can I ask you for something?”

 

Louis seems to think about that. “Why don’t you ask, and if it’s within reason I’ll see what I can do.”

 

Harry licks his lips and his breath stutters when he finds his voice again. “Kiss me?” He begs. “Please, daddy?”

 

A flash of surprise crosses Louis’ features, but Harry can’t keep track of it when the older vampire suddenly closes the distance between them. Harry moans into Louis’ mouth when soft lips brush his. It’s tentative at first. A kind of barely-there caress that leaves Harry breathless for more. His stubble makes his skin sensitive and tingly, causing his arousal to spike.

 

Louis presses deeply into him, the kiss losing it’s chaste aspect as a hot wet tongue traces Harry’s plump bottom lip, teasing along the seam. Harry opens up to him, a pitiful cry trapped within as Louis thrusts inside. Harry clutches at his shoulders, fingers scrabbling at the bare skin he finds there, nails sinking in.

 

Louis hums and Harry feels the vibrations travel throughout his body. They move against each other sensually, Harry’s tongue melding with Louis’, learning the feel of him as well as the taste. It’s addicting. Harry feels completely overwhelmed as Louis’ mouth slants repeatedly over his own, again and again. Whimpers pitifully when Louis pulls back and away.

 

“That’s enough, darling. Calm down. You’ve had quite the day. Sleep now.”

 

Harry wants to argue at first, but thinks better of it. Louis’ right. He is tired, and the way he’s being rocked is so calming. He snuggles deeper into the man’s hold, closing his eyes and allowing his exhaustion to finally take him under.

 

-*-*-

 

Harry wakes just as the sun sets, eyes heavy enough for it to feel like an actual effort to open them. For the first time in a long time he feels...safe. Realizes why when he hears incoherent mumbling next to him.

 

Louis looks peaceful when he sleeps, long, dark lashes standing out against his fair cheeks. He’s curled around Harry like a cat, lips twitching as he periodically talks in his sleep. He looks small and fragile likes this. Soft and inviting. Harry wants to wrap him up in his arms. Wants to bury his face in his neck and learn what he tastes like when he’s so open like this. He wants to wake up with Louis every day.

 

...

 

Fuck.

 

Harry shifts as carefully as he can, a phantom sting burning along the cheeks of his bum, making him remember in vivid detail just what happened last night. The way he begged. Every blow.

 

Calling Louis _daddy_.

 

He’s humiliated himself. Louis pitied him before but now he’s probably resigned himself to Harry’s strange fetishes. He can’t stay here. Doesn’t want to be around when the other vampire wakes up and looks him in the eye. He doesn’t want to see apathetic disgust looking back at him.

Harry doesn’t allow himself to fall apart yet. Prays that his clumsy nature will leave him be, at least until he can get out of here. He slips from the bed soundlessly, and Louis doesn’t so much as twitch. Harry picks up his jeans, unable to find his socks, but at least his boots are by the door. His shirt is a lost cause, so he steals the one Louis wore last night, ignoring the way it still smells like him.

 

Harry doesn’t put on his clothes, creeps from the room instead before shoving his legs into his trousers haphazardly while trying to navigate the halls of Louis house. Everything feels like a blur, and he doesn’t really breathe easily until he’s stumbling out of the front door and into the cold night.

 

He gets a few stares as he buttons up his trousers, stomps his bare feet into his boots, and pulls Louis’ shirt over his head. It’s a tight fit, but it chases the chill away better than a coat could. This doesn’t feel good, bailing like this without a word. He wants, more than anything, to turn back around and wrap himself up in Louis while begging for forgiveness.

 

He keeps walking instead.

 

-*-*-

 

Harry doesn’t know where to go. He feels like if he heads back to his apartment, he’ll either lock himself in or pack all of his shit and leave. He’s off tonight, so he can’t hide out in the bakery and he sure as hell doesn’t want to go back to _Arcanum._

 

His legs carry him there anyways, and he stands at the front entrance in deliberation before sighing and walking through the alley to take the side entrance instead.

 

He needs to talk to Niall and Zayn. Maybe they can get him out of his head for a bit. Tell him what he should do.

 

He’s not ten feet from the door when he hears it. The Air shifting with multiple presences. Harry spins around, his heart skipping a beat when he sees five vampires closing in on him. And leading them all is Tom.

 

Harry backs up, hand reaching behind him to grip at the brick wall he’s pressed into.

 

“What do you want?” He asks, unnerved when the others quietly stare with cruel, judgment in their gazes. Tom’s eyes shine like burning embers when he steps away from the others, a calculated look about him.

 

“Learned about something interesting that happened last night.” He starts off, obviously wanting to drag this out. The first thing that comes to Harry’s mind is Louis, marking him up so well using just his bare hand.

 

“Man was found in an alley during the early hours of the morning, practically bleeding to death and telling authorities about some baby-faced kid that bit him like a rabid dog.”

 

Harry cringes, mentally berating himself for not remembering sooner. He shouldn’t have come here. Should have gone back home and packed the first chance he got. Alleys are turning out to be a danger zone for him. Nothing good happens in alleys.

 

Harry can feel a foreign presence probing at his mental walls, looking for weaknesses. Tom’s trying to invade his mind, prove that Harry did it.

 

“Seeing as how you’re so young,” He coos, stepping into Harry’s personal space and reaching out to twirl a curl around his finger, “not to mention unbonded, it makes sense that you would go around making a mess and nuisance of yourself.” His fingers trail down Harry’s jaw and he can’t stop himself from flinching back in disgust.

 

“You need someone to break you in. Tear you down and build you back up again.”

 

Harry shoves him away, eyes flashing a fiery emerald to reflect his burning anger.

 

“You think you’re the one for the job?” He bites out condescendingly, voice dripping with venom. “You couldn’t break a kitten, let alone me.” Harry feels a thrill when he says _kitten_. Almost as if Louis is here with him. Tom looks livid. He looks fucking furious.

 

“There are other ways to take care of you, Harry.” Tom threatens. “Maybe you’re too much of a loose canon. Maybe it would be best if you were put down.”

 

Something cold drips down Harry’s spine, and he watches, numb, as the others advance on him. He kind of always figured something like this would happen. That this would be how it all ended, just like it started. In some crap back alley overflowing with trash bags and stray cats.

 

How cliche.

 

Tom’s fingers wrap around his throat, but Harry won’t be complacent. This isn’t the first time another vampire has tried to kill him, and he sure as hell isn’t going to make it easy.

 

Harry blinks in confusion just as one of Tom’s lackeys goes dramatically flying through the air. Tom startles in front of him and the others freeze when Louis’ controlled voice echos around them all, dripping with pure fury.

 

“Get. Your hands. Off of him.”

 

Tom can’t move away fast enough, and when he does step aside Harry’s breath dries up in his throat when he sees Louis. His blue eyes glow brilliantly in the shadows, the only discernable feature until he moves forward and into the light. He looks like a coiled snake, beautiful and deadly, ready to strike at any second and completely without warning.

 

Harry’s never felt Louis’ power on display like this. A literal force that’s almost visible with a discernable shape. He’s dangerous, and lovely and the others are clearly affected by it. Perhaps not in the same way that Harry is, but affected all the same.

 

The moment stretches on, and everyone is quiet and still, all attention fixed solely on Louis, who stares them all down in turns.

 

“If _anyone_ so much as entertains the idea of _looking_ at Harry they won’t be recognizable by the time I’m through with them. Forever is a long time to wish for death, am I making myself clear?”

 

The others nod sharply, a terrified stench wafting off of them.

 

“Good.” Louis smiles, pointedly showing his fangs. “Leave now.” He demands, hands lifting to shoo them away. Harry watches as they scatter like mice.

 

But then it’s just them, and Louis is stalking towards him with fury in his gaze and Harry wants to be absorbed by the brick wall behind him.

 

“You’re mad.” Harry announces unnecessarily, watching as Louis’ steps turn calculated once he gets closer. Almost as if he’s afraid to be near him. Like he doesn’t trust what he’ll do. “You have every right to-”

 

“You weren’t there when I woke up.” Louis comments absently, as if it’s inconsequential. “In fact, this isn’t the first time you’ve run away from me.” He observes like he’s only now just realizing this.

 

Harry wants to explain, but really, anything he says is going to sound like bullshit, because there’s only one truth, and that truth is simple. He’s terrified.

 

“I can see how much you value your freedom now.” Louis claims, not five feet away from him, and getting closer. “What you’re clearly willing to risk in order to attain it. I should have listened, and it’s my own fault that I didn’t.”

 

They’re almost pressed together now, and Louis’ words cause something wriggling and uncomfortable to squirm around in the pit of his stomach. He doesn’t like where this is going.

 

“You don’t have to worry about that, Harry. Not anymore.”

 

It shouldn’t hurt, Louis’ lack of endearments. But it does. Feels almost impersonal to have the older vampire calling him by his name.

 

“It’s not like that-” Harry tries to convince him, but Louis is still angry. Quick to snap.

 

“Then what is it like, Harry? Why don’t you tell me. Explain it, so I can understand. Last night you practically _beg_ to be mine, and this morning you pull a fucking vanishing act. _Again_! How else am I supposed to take that!”

 

Harry feels properly scolded, and very much like a fool.

 

“I just...didn’t want to be there when you figured it out.” He whispers, knowing Louis will hear him perfectly. The older vampire sways into his space, their chests brushing.

 

“Figure what out?” He demands, voice still firm and maintaining control.

 

Harry has to take in a deep breath, expanding his ribs enough that he makes contact with Louis once more.

 

“That I’m nothing special. Didn’t want to have to watch you leave.”

 

Harry wants to cry when he admits it. Wants to bury his face and hide away. But Louis looks baffled and hurt in front of him, shaking his head with a weary exhale while pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

“Harry, I’m the one who’s been here the whole time asking you to stay. You’re the one who keeps leaving.”

 

It hits him like a punch to the gut. Regret and disappointment in his actions because Louis’ right. All he’s ever wanted is a companion. A maker who will take care of him. Louis’ been offering him that since the moment they met. The only thing he’s been scared of his having to go through that abandonment that he suffered through the first time around, and yet that’s exactly what he’s done to Louis when he should’ve known better. Knows from personal experience how painful that is.

 

“Louis, I...” He wants to get on his knees, beg for forgiveness. He never wants to let Louis go.

 

“Harry.” He sighs, shaking his head, and his tone alone is enough to make Harry’s heart plummet. “Look, I’m going back home. Please, just...be careful, yeah?”

 

“When will I see you again?” Harry calls after him as he starts to walk away. He’s grateful when Louis stops and turns back to him.

 

“Come to me when you’re tired of running.”

 

He vanishes after that, and Harry isn’t sure how long he stays there, eyes glued to the empty spot Louis used to fill. Louis has such a big personality, he always seems to take up so much space that once he leaves, there’s a gaping hole left in his place.

 

Harry feels hollow without him.

 

-*-*-

 

Harry finds himself standing outside of Louis’ house, actually able to get a good look at it this time around. It isn’t a rickety old Victorian like he’d been dreading. Nor is it the extravagant mansion that he was somewhat expecting, cliches and all that. It’s actually a quaint cottage-type house. More of a small manor, if anything, but it looks warm and inviting and Harry wants the illusion of it to be a reality.

 

The pathway up to the door is cobbled and there are flowers blooming vibrantly of every kind of color. Harry is a little caught off guard by how _pretty_ everything looks. Supposes he shouldn’t be surprised since Louis himself is quite pretty.

 

Harry hasn’t even reached the door before it opens, too busy staring at the honest to god pond just to the right of the path. He watches the ripples form on the surface, a startlingly white fishtail splashing water everywhere before settling.

 

“You came.”

 

Harry looks up, taking in the way Louis’ body leans casually against the doorframe, gaze intense as they stare at each other. Harry tries to shrug, as if it doesn’t mean anything, but they both know it means _everything_. Louis steps aside, holding the door open wider in invitation, and Harry is surprised that he doesn’t so much as hesitate before bounding up the stairs to the porch and into the warm interior of Louis’ home.

 

_Follow me._

 

Louis voicelessly instructs, and Harry follows Louis down a tastefully decorated hall, entering a kind of sitting room with a burning fire in the hearth as the only light. Louis folds his body gracefully into one of the armchairs, motioning for Harry to take the matching one angled across from it.

 

Harry sits awkwardly, unable to do anything but admire the way the fire plays with the light in Louis’ blue eyes. It’s unnerving and beautiful all at once. Harry can tell he’s caging in his power, but he still remembers how it felt in that alley. Unleashed and untamed, causing a familiar mailable cloud to settle over his mind, wrapping him up like a blanket.

 

“The fact that you’re here, Harry, means something.” Louis tells him with conviction, but Harry still feels trepidation, because Louis looks so guarded and he’s still calling him by his name. The other shoe drops when he continues. “Still, I think we should talk. Maybe if we reveal some truths about ourselves, we can make this work.”

 

Harry wants that. He wants it so much it hurts.

 

“No more running, Harry. Just the truth. I don’t suffer liars.”

 

Harry tries not to think about how shit he is at being open with the truth. A trait he isn’t particularly proud of, but had to pick up out of necessity. Still, he finds himself giving an easy nod in agreement, and that seems to please Louis.

 

“Good boy. Feel free to ask me questions as well.” Harry feels a flare of arousal as well as crushing relief over the praise, and fails terribly at not shifting awkwardly when he starts to harden between his legs. It wont do him any good. If Louis can’t smell it on him, he can certainly pick up on his desire from his unguarded thoughts.

 

“Exactly how long have you been a vampire?” Louis suddenly fires at him, and with widened eyes Harry realizes this is it. They’re beginning.

 

This is an easy one. Louis is no doubt starting with something easy to work him up to the harder questions. Besides, Louis already knows the answer, since this has been brought up before. He can do this.

 

“It’ll be a year in March.” He admits easily enough, closing his eyes on a sigh. So far so good. Louis remains quiet after that, much to Harry’s confusion, but then the older vampire gives him a surprisingly fond smile and shakes his head in mock-exasperation.

 

“Tit-for-tat, Harry. Isn’t there something you want to know?”

 

Harry’s mind goes blank and the only thing he can think to do is throw Louis’ question right back at him.

 

“And you? How old are you?” He whispers shakily, watching as Louis’ blue eyes drift towards the ceiling, almost like he has to think about it.

 

“Stopped counting.” He reveals sheepishly. “1463 was the year I was turned though. I was twenty-three at the time.”

 

Harry can’t help but gawk in awe.

 

1463?

 

Fuck.

 

But now it’s Louis’ turn to ask, and Harry’s dreading the question that is obviously coming.

 

_You don’t want to tell me?_

 

It takes Harry’s breath away to hear Louis in his head like that. To see him curled up on the chair across from him, looking so small, and yet so powerful. Blue eyes glinting like an animal’s off the flickering firelight, lips unmoving yet his words echoing effortlessly through Harry’s ears.

 

“Never talked about it.” Harry answers honestly, preferring to speak aloud, as he has yet to master the balance between keeping his thoughts guarded and communicating telepathically.

 

“Because you don’t want to.” Louis follows suit, and it isn’t a question. He no doubt knows how to squeeze through the weakly erected walls Harry has placed around his thoughts in an effort to block others out, easily able to see all his fears.

 

Harry nods. _Don’t lie. Don’t lie._

 

“I’ve been told I should, though. Talk about it.” He elaborates. “Maybe it’ll help.”

 

It’s all the encouragement Louis needs, apparently.

 

“Who made you?”

 

Harry’s tongue feels stuck to the roof of his mouth when he tries to answer. Louis’s quiet though, allows him to take his time while he remains unnaturally still. It’s a little unnerving just how much he can look like a statue.

 

“I only knew him as Cal.” Harry begins with some difficulty, voice husky, as if from disuse. He can’t help but speak slowly, words as thick as syrup, but Louis is attentive, only having eyes for him. Instead of putting Harry off it makes him feel better. Makes it easier to continue.

 

“He never gave me a last name. Wasn’t around long enough for me to get to know him.”

 

Harry’s fingers trace his lips in a kind of nervous habit, and he feels embarrassed to be talking about this. Revealing it freely in an effort to make Louis understand. Harry wants so much to bring him closer, but he can’t help fearing that revealing this truth will only accomplish in pushing him away. Makes him feel like an exposed nerve, but he can only press on.

 

“Cal wasn’t like you, or Zayn. I mean...I don’t think he was very old at all when he made me.” He has to take a deep breath before the next part, feels the swirl of memories flashing through his mind like a terrible movie.

 

“I just remember walking home from work one night, being shoved into some alleyway and then...pain. When I woke up, he was there, muttering about how I was a mistake. That he took too much blood and he didn’t need another dead body on his hands. To him, turning me seemed like a better alternative, I guess.”

 

Louis doesn’t so much as blink during his story, and somehow that makes Harry able to take another breath and continue.

 

“He was all I knew, so I followed him, asking endless questions that he didn’t have the answers to. More often than not I would wake up, and he would be gone, but somehow I always knew where he was, and when I’d catch up, he’d look so disappointed. Didn’t try to hide the fact that I was a burden.”

 

It’s been almost a year, but it still hurts. Remembering the way he was so clearly unwanted. He’d do anything not to feel that way again.

 

“Cal had a terrible temper. Lost control all the time. Fed off of people much longer than he should. He would take it out on me when I was there to stop him. When I wasn’t, he would leave a pile of bodies like a trail to the next town I had to follow him to, just hoping I could do something to make it stop. Didn’t know at that point if there even _were_ others like us out there.

 

“Cal made it clear how much he hated me. Here I was, the freshly made vampire who managed not to hurt anyone and he had twenty years on me and couldn’t feed without going too far. I guess he got sick of it finally. I was asking questions, like, who turned him, and if he knew if there were others, and Cal just _snapped_. Tried to rip my throat out with his teeth. I got lucky. Managed to kick him out of a third story window in broad daylight. He was a pile of ash before he reached the ground.”

 

Harry suddenly feels very cold, his whole body wracked with shivers, and Louis is there in front of him, gently pulling him up from the chair and leading him to the plush looking carpet in front of the fireplace. He sits first before easing Harry down so his head rests in his lap, curls fanning over the soft material of Louis’ tight trousers. Harry’s eyes flutter shut when he feels fingers carding delicately through his hair and he can’t stop a pleased mewl from escaping his lips over Louis’ ministrations.

 

“It was the worst thing I’ve ever felt. Worse than dying.” Harry confesses on a whisper. “I never realized how connected we were until we suddenly _weren’t_ anymore. He’d always blocked me out, but I never learned how to do the same. Made room for him in the back of my mind, and when he was no longer there...I became lost. Useless. Couldn’t bring myself to move for three days straight. The only thing that got me up was the thirst, and the very real fear that if I put off feeding any longer I would wind up just like Cal. Losing control. Hurting someone.”

 

Harry wants to laugh at the irony of that, because Cal’s been gone a long time, but he’s more like him now then he ever was before.

 

“None of that, pet.” Louis soothes on a whisper. “Tell me what happened after. What did you do?”

 

“I moved around a lot, always looking for others like me, but terrified they would all be like _him_. Promised myself not to become so dependent on another like that. Not to lose myself in someone else. The vampires I did meet...weren't pleasant. Most of them tried to hurt me, and the ones that didn't, well...I didn't want to be around them. Then I met Niall by accident. Literally bumped into him on the street. He kind of took me under his wing. Him _and_ Zayn, eventually. Tried to teach me what they could. Encouraged me to bond. I guess that’s why you suddenly showed up.” He finishes lamely, allowing himself to enjoy having his hair played with. He hadn’t realized just how much he missed their contact and how a lack of it had affected his ability to function. Now that he has it back, Harry feels like he can breathe again.

 

Christ, he hopes Louis didn’t hear that. Doesn’t want to appear desperate and needy. That’s the way Cal always saw him.

 

Louis skims his nails along Harry’s scalp, adding the right amount of pressure to be enough, and when Harry opens his eyes he sees nothing but lust and affection reflecting back at him in those constantly-changing blue depths. Of course Louis heard. Harry wonders if it’s possible to die of mortification.

 

"Zayn did call me." Louis admits. "Told me about a child vampire that was unbonded and needed protection. I only came so I could tell him no in person."

 

Harry's eyes widen. "But you-"

 

"I didn't want to do it. Didn't want that responsibility again. But then I saw you at the bar that night, and I...I was intrigued. Wanted to know you. Keep you safe."

 

He's speechless. Doesn't know what to say to that until he suddenly remembers that it’s his turn to ask a question, so he jumps on the chance.

 

“Is Zayn the only vampire you’ve made?”

 

If Louis is surprised by the inquiry he doesn’t show it, his fingers never pausing in the massage he’s treating Harry’s head to.

 

“I gave Zayn a brother nearly three-hundred years ago, but I stopped at two.” Louis shows mercy and continues when he sees the open curiosity in Harry’s expression. “His name is Liam and he currently lives in Bradford as a volunteer fireman during the graveyard shift. He’s a bit of a giant puppy, but I’m sure you two would get along, kitten.” Louis mutters, hands expertly working on Harry’s neck now.

 

“Do you miss him?” Harry whispers, breath catching when Louis flashes him a brilliant smile.

 

“That’s two questions, pet, but I’ll let it slide just this once. Course I miss him, but we’re still connected, so it’s different than you might think. You remember when I told you I was alone for a decade?”

 

Harry nods in affirmation as the first night they met plays in his mind like a movie.

 

“Well, I never really felt alone during that time. Wherever I go I’ll always have this echo of Zayn and Liam with me. I’ll never be _truly alone_. Not like you had to suffer. Not like you are now, unbonded as you are.”

 

It’s hard for Harry not to feel hollow after that. Louis seems to realize this and his warm hands trail up and down Harry’s bare arms in an effort to soothe. Unsurprisingly, it works quickly.

 

“My turn, kitten.” Louis whispers, curling his body so he's practically hovering above Harry’s face in a now-familiar position to them.

 

“I understand why you were so reluctant before. Why you’re afraid to depend on anyone but yourself. But there’s no need for that caution now, love. Not with me. Are you ready to stop running? Want to be my good boy?”

 

Harry isn’t sure where this is going. He’s here, after all, so Louis should already know his answer. Why is he wasting his question?

 

“Not wasting, sweetheart. Wanna hear you say it.”

 

Louis apparently has a thing for embarrassing Harry, his wicked smile all the proof he needs. Harry’s head is spinning with the implications.

 

“Use your words, baby.”

 

“Yes, please. If you still want me.” Harry exhales softly. Even though he knows he doesn’t need oxygen, he still feels like he’s unable to get enough air in to _breathe._

 

“Of course I still want you, sweets. Always want you.” He hums melodically. “And do you want me to be your daddy? I could love you and take such good care of you that you’d never find yourself wanting for anything.”

 

Fuck, he really does want that. Wants Louis to be his daddy, and take care of him, and treat him like he’s fucking precious. Like he matters. Like Cal never did.

 

And it’s the memory of Cal that has him gaining some semblance of clarity, because he can’t survive another round of being the clingy, annoying, burden that asks too many questions and amounts to nothing but a disappointment. Harry will break if he disappoints someone like Louis. Someone promising to take care of him. To be the best daddy he’s ever had...

 

Someone he can fall in love with.

 

By the time he even entertains the idea of second guessing this, Louis’s gathering him up in his arms and rocking him much like the previous night, making soft lulling sounds while his hands cradle him close.

 

“But why? Why do you even care?” Harry’s asking over and over. He doesn’t want an answer. Not really. Doesn’t want to hear about how this is all just some favor to Zayn and Niall. Doesn’t want to know how Louis’ doing this just so Harry will be tethered to someone stable, no longer a potential threat to others. He doesn’t want to know the truth. Wants Louis to lie instead. Wants to be wanted.

 

“Baby, I _do_ want you. Can’t you see that? Is it not obvious to you? Zayn’s been telling me that I’m like a love sick teenager with a crush. Christ, Harry, I already care about you so much the enormity of it scares me. Why else would I be making such a fool of myself in an effort to win your favor?”

 

Harry’s mind is in chaos again, but all he can think to say is, “‘Cause you’re a masochist.”

 

Louis chuckles and lowers himself to nuzzle against Harry’s Adam’s apple. “Could’ve sworn you were the masochist in this relationship, darling.”

 

Harry’s heart pounds over that word _r_ _elationship._ Relishes the soft kisses Louis places against his neck, bares his throat obediently when Louis’ tiny, sharp teeth graze teasingly near his jugular. Harry can’t help but moan, pressing up against Louis’ incisors until Louis has to pull back before he breaks skin. His blue eyes are wide and glowing, awed fascination shining out of their depths, and it’s all directed at Harry.

 

Louis curses in what sounds like another language before he’s lowering himself again, this time latching onto Harry’s lips, pulling the bottom one into his own mouth and nibbling. It’s not a kiss. Not really, but Harry thinks it’s perfect.

 

“Wanna taste you.” Louis breathes into him. Harry can feel it. The almost painful pressure of Louis’ fangs against his lip. Just the slightest move would break the skin and his blood would be gushing into Louis’ mouth.

 

“Want it.” Harry whimpers, unable to move when Louis gets a grip on him. “Want you to do it.” He practically begs, but Louis shakes his head frantically like he’s in pain, and maybe he is.

 

“You have to admit it first. Tell me so there’s no mistake.”

 

“Cheater.” Harry groans in frustration, scratching his nails down the soft skin of Louis’ arms in revenge. He doesn’t know what it is about Louis that makes him _want_ with such ferocity that he hardly recognizes himself anymore. He doesn’t know if he’ll survive this.

 

“Just tell me the truth, Harry.” Louis orders, but he knows that the older vampire is not using his power to influence, and if Harry feels this wanton without the added push, he’s not sure how he’ll ever be coherent once Louis decides not to hold back with him. “Tell me.”

 

“Want you.” Harry practically sobs in honesty. “Don’t want to be alone, anymore. Want _you._ ”

 

“What do you want me to do, pet?” Louis presses, not satisfied until Harry unravels completely. Gives him everything.

 

“Want you to claim me.” Harry shudders on a moan, feeling his body arch when Louis puts his exploring hands back on him. “Want you to be my daddy. Take care of me. Love me.”

 

This time it’s Louis that can’t keep quiet, and Harry relishes the pleased noises he emits.

 

“Such a good boy for me, Harry.” He praises. “So good for daddy.” Harry feels like he’s burning up inside. He definitely won’t survive this.

 

“What do I do? Want to be yours, daddy. Tell me what to do.”

 

“Gotta bite you, kitten. take enough from you that you feel weak.”

 

Harry’s already baring his throat again, body pliant and trusting in Louis’ capable hands while the older vampire settles above him, but doesn’t move to press Harry down into the rug like he wants.

 

“Not yet, love. You’re being so good for me though. Daddy’s good boy.”

 

Harry stifles an impatient whine, not wanting his daddy to be upset with him.

 

“M’good.” He slurs out, lips feeling foreign and his tongue seemingly heavy again. Louis’ power is spilling out subtly now, creating pulses of electricity all across Harry’s skin. It’s not as much as it could be, just enough to have Harry pleasantly floating off of the initial effects. “I can be good.”

 

“I know you can, darling. You’re being so good for me right now.” Louis seems to remember himself, tamping his power down so Harry’s mind isn’t such a muddled mess when he tries to explain what’s going to happen.

 

“Listen love, in order for this to work, I’ll have to drain you until there’s almost nothing left. It’ll make you weak and disoriented. Maybe even a little sleepy, but you can’t fall asleep, okay? Cause when I finish that’s when you’re up.”

 

“What do I do?” Harry asks again, wondering if he’ll remember when the time comes. He’s so far gone as it is.

 

“Just need you to drink, kitten. Drink what daddy gives you, okay? Think you can do that?”

 

“I’ll try my best for you, daddy.” Harry promises, and Louis looks so pleased it warms his heart.

 

“I know you will, pet. Gonna get you out of those clothes now, yeah?”

 

Harry can only nod adamantly, hands coming up in an effort to help Louis remove his clothing. The only thing he manages to do is get in the way, limbs flailing awkwardly, but Louis doesn’t swat at his bumbling arms, pulls his palms to his mouth and kisses them instead, like he’s something precious and breakable. Like he matters.

 

“Drove me crazy to see you in my shirt, baby.” Louis admits once he takes it off. “You smell like me. Like you’re mine.”

 

“I am yours, daddy.” Harry pants, entranced by the way Louis’ eyes glow an electric blue. It’s easy to read the lust and desire in that look, and it has him squirming.

 

Once Harry is naked, he can’t help but purr in contentment. The fire warms his skin and makes him feel soft and languid, but best of all is the feel of Louis’ hands on him. He pushes up into the touch, gasping and arching his back wantonly when Louis’ fingers rub teasing circles over his extra nipples.

 

“I do enjoy these.” Louis whispers, his gaze captivated while Harry lets out a low-pitched whine.

 

“Daddy please.”

 

“Please what?” Louis asks, seemingly oblivious to what he’s putting him through.

 

“Please don’t tease.”

 

“M’not teasing, baby. I just want to play with you for a little bit, yeah?”

 

“Nnghh.” Harry whimpers, tossing his head from side to side as he tries to get Louis to press harder.

 

“Stop squirming, love. Hold still for daddy and don’t be greedy.”

 

Harry gives a broken sob, trying not to move while he lets his daddy do as he pleases.

 

Louis leans into him, his face hovering mere inches from his chest. Harry can feel his lips move when he speaks.

 

“So good for me, baby. Such a good boy. My beautiful boy.” He praises, mouth closing over the extra nipple on his left side. Harry sees stars. Feels like shattering glass when a hot tongue licks a searing stripe over his sensitive nub.

 

Harry humps Louis’ thigh, desperate for any kind of relief. Any kind of friction.

 

“You’re leaking so much, kitten.” Louis breathes into the skin over his heart. “I can smell it from here. So wet for me.”

 

It’s too much. Harry can’t take it. He needs Louis to claim him, in every possible way.

 

“Please.” He begs once more. “Daddy... _please._ ”

 

“Alright, baby. Alright. Daddy will give you what you need.” Louis sighs out, and Harry watches frozen while the older vampire undresses. He’s never seen him naked before, finds himself holding his breath as every inch of Louis is slowly revealed to him.

 

“So gorgeous.” Harry blurts out, reveling in the fond look Louis directs his way.

 

“Spread your legs for me, sweetheart. Nice and wide.”

 

Harry rushes to obey, letting his legs fall open, exposing himself so his daddy can get a good look.

 

“Just look at you, baby. So hard for me.”

 

Harry moans, his cock twitching as if feeling Louis’ gaze. He wants so much for Louis to take him in his hand, but Louis slots between his thighs instead. They fit together perfectly, as if they were crafted for this very purpose.

 

Louis kisses him then, and Harry can't help thinking he’s being devoured. Whimpers when he feels his daddy’s tongue trace along his fangs. He makes a sound of protest when Louis pulls back slightly, drawing Harry’s swollen bottom lip into his mouth.

 

A sharp cry leaves him when Louis bites down. A spark of pain ignites as Louis tongues at the wound he’s created, Harry’s blood hot and gushing into both of their mouths. It shocks Harry when Louis lets out a loud, wanton moan and he thrashes beneath him when the older vampire sucks forcefully, trying to drink down more even as the wound heals and closes completely.

 

When Louis pulls back his lips are stained red, but his tongue sneaks out to gather every stray drop like he’s already addicted.

 

“Jesus, pet. The way you _taste.”_ Louis sounds wrecked, and Harry’s riding the high of being the one to do that to him.

 

“Gonna claim you now, kitten. Drink you down until there’s barely anything left. Then I’ll give it back to you, your life mixed with my own.”

 

Harry nods frantically. He wants that. God, he needs it.

 

Louis doesn’t go for his neck, like Harry expects. He moves further down, and Harry thinks he’ll go for his inner thigh for sure.

 

Louis surprises him. His hot tempting mouth enclosing his right nipple, teasing the nub before his teeth sink into the surrounding skin with no resistance. Harry arches into his mouth, loving the vibrations he feels when Louis moans around him just as his blood falls on his seeking tongue once again.

 

Harry buries his fingers in Louis soft hair, holds his face to his chest as if he’s in danger of leaving. His eyes flutter shut, and he allows himself to just lose himself in this. He focuses his hearing, catching the sounds of Louis suckling against his flesh, and beneath that the sounds of his blood being siphoned out of his veins.

 

Harry mewls when Louis has to bite down again, the wound closing quickly before Louis reopens it. His hands pet him everywhere they can reach, and Harry feels like his body is going to overload with sensation.

 

“Daddy.” He whispers, tugging at Louis’ hair and moaning in pleasure when it pulls at his skin deliciously, opens his wound that much more when those sharp teeth clamp down.

 

Louis keeps making these soft noises. Like gentle sighs against his skin. He sounds pleased. Content. That simple action ignites a happiness in him he didn’t know he was capable of. He feels floaty again. Has to scratch his nails down Louis slender, muscled back in order to feel grounded. Anchored.

 

Harry isn’t sure how much time passes. The pleasure becomes hazy, and it’s starting to feel like he’s a water bottle being tipped upside down, all of his liquid pouring out. He can’t open his eyes anymore. Lids heavy, limbs deadweight as his hands fall from Louis’ hair.

 

He’s getting tired. Vaguely remembers Louis warning him not to fall asleep. He tries to stay conscious. Doesn’t want to disappoint his daddy.

 

Harry isn’t sure if he manages or not, but the next thing he knows something is slapping his cheek lightly and Louis' voice is in his head.

 

_Come on, love. Open your eyes for me._

 

It feels like one of the hardest things he has to do, but his lids eventually blink open, vision swimming and unfocused.

 

“That’s it, baby. Look at me.”

 

Harry tries. Concentrates until the blurs turn into shapes and the shapes gain features. Louis stares down at him with worry and something resembling love. It’s the only thing that keeps Harry from letting his eyes fall shut. His need to look at Louis is deeper then his exhaustion.

 

“Come on, darling. Up you get.” Louis softly coerces, arms snaking around Harry’s back, one hand cradling his neck as he pulls Harry to him, settling his heavy unresponsive body atop his lap. Harry’s chin is hooked over Louis’ shoulder, his arms dangling at his sides. Louis' own hands cup his head, pulling him back enough that they can look at each other. Louis' mouth looks positively sinful outlined in crimson.

 

“Open your mouth wide for me, babe. Let daddy see your teeth.”

 

Harry pulls back his lips in a mock snarl and Louis sounds happy when he says, “Good, pet. Very good. Stay just like that for me.”

 

Harry is lowered back down to Louis' throat, the smell of caramel highly concentrated here. His mouth waters.

 

“Go ahead, kitten. Bite down. Drink your fill of daddy’s blood.”

 

He’s almost too weak to manage it, but Louis helps, presses Harry down so there’s enough pressure for his fangs to break skin.

 

It hits him hard, makes him gasp and bite harder. He thinks he hears Louis choke on a groan but he can’t be sure. Harry thinks this must be what swallowing lightning feels like. The way it jolts and lights up everything it touches inside. His body comes to life, working and swaying above Louis, simulating lovemaking.

 

Harry likes that idea. Can feel the pronounced shape of Louis cock; hard and pulsing while nestled snuggly between his cheeks. The head catches on Harry’s rim every now and then making him whine in the back of his throat as he strives to repeat the motion.

 

Louis’ blood is intoxicating. Centuries old and very powerful, Harry already feels a sharpening in his abilities, the mere act of drinking from Louis making him stronger.

 

He’s beginning to feel full, a different kind of heavy. He doesn’t want to pull off, but he doesn’t want to hurt his daddy, either. Just as he’s about to move away, Louis sinks his own teeth into the vulnerable spot where Harry’s neck meets his shoulder.

 

Harry cries out against Louis’ throat, clamping his jaw down roughly and making Louis moan as they both drink from each other, creating a delicious loop. The pleasure is too intense, his cock twitching between them, rubbing into Louis’ firm belly.

 

He comes untouched. Just like that. No warning, really.

 

An encompassing black rushes up to meet Harry, and he can’t fight it anymore. Let’s it take him, and promptly passes out in Louis’ arms.

 

-*-*-

 

Harry can feel the difference right away. Knows something’s shifted before he even opens his eyes. That place in his mind, the one Cal used to take up and has remained vacant ever since Harry killed him, isn’t vacant anymore. Louis has taken up residence inside of him. A constant presence emitting warmth and affection.

 

_You can feel me, can’t you? Our connection._

 

Harry doesn’t have time to respond when his cheeks are spread and a tongue slides inside him. He sobs, fingers grasping at soft blankets. Harry’s on his stomach. Thinks he recognizes this room as the one Louis spanked him in. Louis, who’s lying between his legs, enthusiastically licking him out.

 

_We’re tied to each other now. Open your mind, love. Feel my pleasure coalescing with your own._

 

Harry can’t fathom how Louis expects him to do that. Not with that talented tongue wriggling expertly into his hole. Fucking him fast before licking languidly around his rim, teasing until it flutters and winks.

 

Harry catches hold of it, then. Like a wavelength that doesn’t match his own, sporadic, warm and sweet. Like swirls of caramel. Like Louis. He can _feel_ Louis. Knows just how much he’s enjoying forcing this pleasure on Harry. How much he wants and craves and needs _more_.

 

_Good, baby. You’re doing so well._

 

Louis' tongue swirls around his puckered entrance before thrusting back inside. Harry buries his face into the pillows, wanton moans spilling from his lips to be muffled by the fabric. His hips shove forward, humping the mattress in an effort for relief. He’s come already, but his dick is painfully hard once again, eager for any kind of attention.

 

Louis' tongue pulls out and he smacks Harry’s bum.

 

“On your knees, kitten. No allowances this time.” It’s wonderful to hear Louis’ voice spoken aloud, and with the other vampire’s help, Harry is able to get his legs beneath him, pushing up until his arse is on display and his head stays buried in his folded arms.

 

One of Louis’ hands reaches between his legs, taking his cock in a tight, sweaty grip, pulling his rigid flesh away from his stomach. He lowers it down like a lever or a switch, and doesn’t stop until the stiff length is between his upper thighs. It’s almost painful, but Harry forgets about that when Louis pulls his foreskin back and places a chaste kiss to the head.

 

His mouth is hot and wet when he finally opens up and takes him in, swallowing messily around his shaft as a finger presses teasingly against his hole.

 

“Daddy!” Harry cries, tears falling down his cheeks as his knees wobble with the effort to hold himself up. He feels Louis' sharp incisors against his vulnerable skin, and it sends a thrill running through him over the very real possibility of being bitten there. Of being sucked in a different way. His cock blurts out more precome onto Louis’ waiting tongue at the thought.

 

_You want me to, don’t you, sweetheart? Be a good boy and beg for it._

 

Harry doesn’t think he has enough blood left to blush, but he feels heat spreading over his face at the very idea.

 

“Please, daddy. Please taste me down there.”

 

 _Alright, kitten. Just a taste_.

 

Harry feels the way his teeth slide in, but not nearly as deep as the other times. The pain is over with quickly, but the pleasure...

 

It has Harry’s eyes rolling to the back of his head, is sure he’s left his body and is currently rising towards the ceiling.

 

“Christ, baby.” Louis whispers in disbelief as he pulls off, his hand stroking and twisting over Harry’s healed cock. “You spoil me.”

 

“W-wanna...make you proud.” Harry pants, as breathless as if he's run a marathon.

 

“You do, baby.” Louis assures, hands kneading at the cheeks of his bum. “You make daddy so proud. Please me so much.”

 

And that’s all Harry wants. All he needs.

 

“Really?” Louis asks with a smile. “Is that _all_ you need? There isn’t anything else you want?”

 

Harry’s mouth hangs open as he tries to find the words. Louis flips Harry over effortlessly, hands tracing patterns into his body as he stares down at him with unwavering, burning blue eyes.

 

“It’s okay, angel. You can tell me. Tell me what you want.”

 

“You.” Harry chokes out. “I only want you.”

 

“Want me to do what, Harry?” Louis questions, the corner of his lips lifting in a half smile as he leans down far enough to rub their noses together.

 

“Touch me?”

 

“I am touching you, baby.”

 

“Here.” Harry begs, fingers wrapping around Louis’ delicate wrist and guiding it down, passed his angry red cock and further, until those seeking hands find his hole. “Touch me here.”

 

“Of course, darling.” Louis mouths against his lips, a finger sinking easily inside, still wet from Louis tongue.

 

Harry throws his head back and mewls, shoving down against the invasion to take the digit in deeper. Louis buries his face in his neck, mouthing over his Adam’s apple as he crooks his finger knowingly.

 

Harry thrashes violently when pleasure bursts like fireworks inside of him. “Fuck. Daddy! Oh god.”

 

“Language, baby.” Louis says with a bit of a grin, thrusting against that spot inside him repeatedly, pulling out almost all the way before slamming back inside with two fingers.

 

“Please? More?”

 

“More fingers?” Louis asks, and Harry shakes his head, because even though he loves Louis’ fingers, he’s greedy for something else. Something bigger.

 

“Oh.” Louis says, drawing the word out as if it hadn’t occurred to him before. “You want daddy to fuck you, kitten? Want me to get you ready? Prepare you for my cock?” He pops the ‘k’ at the end, and it has shivers wracking his entire frame while he nods adamantly.

 

“Say it, love.” Louis demands, and Harry loves the humiliation. Will say the most obscene truth in order to make Louis proud.

 

“Want your cock in me.” He moans. “Want you to fuck me hard with it. Get me ready to take you just enough so that I feel you for days. Want it so bad, daddy, I can’t take it anymore.”

 

“Shh.” Louis soothes, smoothing back Harry’s wild curls. “I’ll take care of you, I promise.”

 

Harry closes his eyes. Feels Louis' wet fingers back at his hole, slicking him up and getting him loose. Harry feels impatient. Wonders what Louis is using for lube. Maybe it’s blood. Maybe he wants to get him dirty and sticky while he fucks him like some kind of animal.

 

“Hold your legs up for me. Let daddy see you.”

 

Harry does as he’s told, thighs trembling as he grips the back of them tightly, pulling them up and to his chest, making sure he’s spread wide enough for his daddy to see.

 

“Flexible, baby?” Louis asks sounding pleased and Harry nods eagerly, happy that this small little detail seems to bring Louis joy.

 

Harry bites off a whine when Louis sinks two fingers back inside him without warning.

 

“There you go. Nice and smooth.”

 

Harry’s body feels like it’s constricting as Louis’ fingers spread and scissor inside him, getting him nice and stretched. When they suddenly curl, Harry feels a jolt of electricity spark inside, erupting from the tips of Louis fingers and igniting throughout his entire body.

 

“Daddy found your spot again, didn’t he?”

 

Harry’s eyes flutter shut and his bottom lip trembles so much he has to bite down on it while he nods.

 

Louis doens’t show any mercy after that. Abuses his prostate continuously with such precision Harry can’t help but wonder if he's been drawn a map.

 

“Please.” Harry begs. “Please, daddy. Want your cock, now.”

 

“You’re being impatient, baby.”

 

Harry gives a pitiful groan, shaking uncontrollably as the pleasure intensifies. Louis’ fingers are relentless, fuck in hard and fast, vampire speed being utilized.

 

“You should see yourself like this, love. See how good you look.”

 

Harry screams when Louis lowers himself, teeth sinking into the meat of his thigh right when his fingers pound into him just right, milking his spot.

 

His vision whites out when he comes for a second time.

 

He doesn’t get a chance to breathe, because Louis’s pushing into him slowly with his big hard cock and Harry swears he’s not going to survive the night.

 

“So tight, kitten. Feels incredible.”

 

“Daddy.” Harry sobs, still holding himself wide open for the older vampire. He watches as Louis pulls back, eyes focused on where his dick disappears inside Harry’s red, slick hole.

 

“Jesus, look at that. Take it so well, baby. Maybe I’ll film it next time. Let you see what you look like.” He suggests, pulling almost completely out before shoving back in with enough force to push Harry further up the bed.

 

Louis grabs his hips, using the leverage to work Harry over his cock. Harry’s grip weakens, and his legs fall over Louis' arms, jostling around in the air as he’s practically bounced on Louis’ dick.

 

It’s the rough treatment that gets him hard again, relishing in the friction of Louis moving rhythmically inside him. Can’t help but whine when Louis pulls out completely only to slam back inside.

 

“Use your words, love. Tell me how it feels.” Louis encourages, but Harry’s thoughts are all over the place. Knows he wont make sense.

 

“Don’t stop, daddy.”

 

“Tell me why I shouldn’t, pet. C’mon. You can tell me.” Louis pants, body gleaming with sweat, muscles rippling as he moves deep and perfect inside.

 

“Because it feels good, daddy.” Harry breathes out between thrusts.

 

“What feels good, baby?” Louis presses, shifting inside and brushing that spot. Harry’s entire body convulses with waves of pleasure. He’s fully hard now, leaking against his stomach with the weight of his arousal.

 

“Your cock.” He whines without inhibitions. “The way you’re fucking me.”

 

“Like the way I fuck you, baby?”

 

Harry gives a frantic nod, hand inching down his stomach, desperate to touch his aching need.

 

“Put your hands above your head, Harry, and leave them there. No touching.”

 

Harry does as he’s told, the position elongating his body and causing Louis’ eyes to burn brighter.

 

“So beautiful. I’m such a lucky daddy.” Louis growls, moving down and practically bending Harry in half in an effort to reach his lips. It’s messy and hardly a kiss at all, more like breathing into each other than anything.

 

“Want you to come on my cock, sweetheart. Feel you tighten around me when you do. But only when I say, okay? Think you can?”

 

Harry will do anything Louis asks of him, of that, he’s sure.

 

“I think so, daddy.”

 

“Good. That’s my very best boy.” Louis praises, and fucks in harder, faster, the sound of slapping flesh echoing in the air. “Almost there, baby. Doing so well.”

 

“Daddy?”

 

“Do it, Harry. Come now.”

 

Harry comes, his third orgasm far more intense then the others, because it’s what Louis wants. His insides tense, and he sobs when he feels the hard shape of his daddy moving in him, nudging his prostate and prolonging his pleasure. But then Louis’ hips falter, and just as he comes inside of him he sinks his teeth into Harry’s neck and a scream rings through the air. It’s all he can hear as more come streaks up his chest.

 

It has to be his imagination, but Harry swears he can feel Louis release inside him, warm and wet and filling him so good. Louis collapses on top of him, ignoring the mess and burrowing deeper into him as he swipes his tongue over Harry’s throat. For a long time, the only sound in the room is their panting breaths, a quiet air taking over once they’ve had time to calm down.

 

“Don’t think I’ll ever leave this bed.” Harry decides, and Louis chuckles tiredly against his skin.

 

“I think that sounds like a great idea, kitten.”

 

Harry gasps when Louis pulls out of him, shoving two fingers inside quickly before his come can leak out. He whimpers over how sensitive he is. The way it’s deliciously painful when his spot is stimulated.

 

“Daddy.”

 

“You’re so wet, baby. Should keep you like this all the time. Plug you up when I’m done. keep you open for me so I can bend you over whenever I feel like it. How’s that sound, pet?”

 

Harry struggles to swallow, and he only just manages to croak out a “yes please.”

 

Louis kisses him so gently it makes Harry hum into his mouth, a desperate feeling starting in his stomach.

 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. We’ve got time.”

 

“Promise?” Harry whispers against his lips, sighing when Louis pets over his prostate again, the fingers of his other hand burying themselves in his messy curls.

 

“How’s forever sound?”

 

“Think you can handle me for that long?” Harry asks, half joking, half serious.

 

“That’s the plan. Though it is a very real possibility that you’ll be the death of me.” He twists his fingers inside, a third tracing around Harry’s swollen rim. “Not that it would be a bad way to go.”

 

Harry cuddles closer, wraps his arms around Louis slim body and breathes him in.

 

“How do you feel, love?” Louis asks, trailing kisses over his collar bones.

 

“Good.” Harry exhales, squirming on the end of Louis’ fingers. “Like the way you’re touching me.” He admits, not sure if he can get hard again just yet, but it still feels amazing. “I can feel you. In my mind, I mean. I can feel you there.”

 

“Your with me too, baby. We’re apart of each other now.”

 

“My senses are sharper, too. Since I drank from you, it’s like everything’s been heightened.”

 

“Drinking from me has made you more powerful. Increased your abilities.”

 

“Do you think I can throw that in Niall’s face? He likes to give me shit for being younger.”

 

Louis pulls Harry closer wrapping around him like a four-limbed octopus. “Of course. Anything that makes you happy.”

 

“You.” Harry blurts out, green eyes meeting blue. “You’ve made me happy.”

 

Louis beams at him, moving forward to place a quick kiss on the tip of his nose.

 

“And you’ve made _me_ happy. More than you know.”

 

“I think I have an idea.” Harry whispers, exhausted but not ready to take his eyes off of Louis just yet. “I’m glad you chased me, Louis.”

 

The older vampire’s eyes sparkle with so much emotion it makes him breathless. “I’m glad you stopped running, kitten.”

 

Harry’s glad too.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if I need to add anything in the tags, and let me know if you liked it, yeah?


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